I •• 




-i ' 4 ^' -4 :•« 


u'- A* i.- u .■ • t.. 

' ri‘ .?-• t‘ f’.i ‘ ‘ 

Ji' > iri i '1 


-f* ' ^ ^ 

'. • * ‘j i - ,■■ T 

’•T ?♦ ..5 • / 




!•*.*• .* 


•*. ^ 


s.'^ ^^•:;''1v•^ 

j ;; •.■.; V< '■■ 1,2 

*, -. ■ ■" • t r * y ? ; * -. 


.r 


«• V 

‘ >‘V. '• 
1' . < , 

•r 


■ ?■ ’ T .'. V it* c 

• 1 . ^ ; T ** * •* < 

i-i.' " 4 'T ?•? 

, - ^• ? .«' T f ■ J-‘ .-. 

.' -V' V. A : 

V = ^ 


rf 


iVT-ri.' •• •? " ...' 4 ' 

w' ~ i ^ ‘; ** ■» V ^ ^ ^ 

* 1 * !■■' ? r ■* «•*. 

'";T'v^:-v 

• ^ V ‘ .“ • -• *' ’•. * v*’ 


• ' «. < • • *' ; 

' ' ■•• ’ ^ .• r M , .V :' 1 ' ’ •'« *t 

^ W;..'» ‘ ', \- V' ' ?• 


• i , m ^ • T % 

-♦'u.r"■?**:* '• 

^ .T . — »-'••• T . 


• Cl » < 


•V .. . 

H ,t 4 » 

r 4 


r" 7V?.'.r - f' ? 


• '■•I.* . f r* 

■*^ • -i •* - .w. ^ 

-. i. ,’ I, i ■ ‘ 

>2 j • ~ *l 


■ V i t ••4 i ,’ i. ‘ ■ * > •.'*# 

«•••-• J* 1 .TV .■« . 1 • jT > • > T \ y V 

*'•'.» • • « •’i ■ ■ ■ ♦ .< I • * 


.. • • - ,7 ■? ^ ’ 4' J» - 

■ t' -..'-- y ■-"».; '!' ■ ;■' ? *•. S- 

i^^: ^.i.l 

y:Wy. t 


*• . 
4 1 

i* ■• .f 

nt 

h : 


-i 

,t?-7 , 

r'' is*-:* 

• 4. •. , ^ J, 

t'i ' 

r,'./ • 4’ :.-’\ 
i ;••.■♦ • .X ' 

J't-f j 


I t 

/ 4 »V 

;i;V 

C M > 1 / 
’ V v V, 
■ 

lV..‘\ 















A = tr- A" ; 

y/y^ r. '<y ; 




^ cP’o 

^. '''P, 




'^- ^ .. 
■' '' , „ <• 0 , V ’*' -\ '"'o ''//T^^v, 

^ ^ a''* - - . ^' ' 

k. ^ — ■'•v\’ \ ll S9a y* «V* ^ K, 

. 0^ 


\ " ^ 




, % "' '> S >' ^ 

A" 



-v 






^ /) 

A 


A ^ 

t5 


*• ' 


,XN .o.c, V"*''oA ,>... 

O A*\^'''^'^^\l'y‘^^ V «K / *A' ^ c'^-. 

^ ^ V 

■' ■■ A ‘•’'•yO> ...n,\, 

AA ' A A' . 



A 


^ » 1 ' . SA 

\’ .y>= '''' 


I: ^ A ; 

r.^ A % 


cA 



0,'= 

cpA'-'A- 

A ' 

O O ^ 't 

V. 




















, '''' / .s' 0 n ^'O 

o <.''«#'<<. s\\ , 0 ^ c . Y- ^ ^ 

oP 'Ws^ <,'’ r 

^ ^ « ''O- * 0 S o • ^ 8 1 A * ^ 0 s 0 ^ 

|1 2 ° '^\r^ ^ 

* 'V ■% '. sis » <> ^ ' °. -></j;i,\F * 

' '^. JkV 's 


,0 


IP 







o'’ :> ' 

^ ® ^-<- 

o^ '^rj. 

/. civ' 

> ^ aT 

^ *1 ^ 'A *> 'w;m^N« 

'■i c> X j' ^ ^ 

■' ^ A O Y s 

v^' =‘ 


'' ? o' 

. - _> >- " -A. -r y 

* (W ^■' . V -■^*’ ^ _j, 



■5 '0' O >! u X \ ^ 

-»N . ^ Y« * ’ ' V s * 0 

' * ■'" f ;B 

P-. - 


P v"^ 

Z' ^ 

xO 

: Y ^ . -. z ‘/^//aTfSV'Xv _ .' - 

,5 ^ 


c* 


X '' >.ur^ \0^ s- - v>- » * 

.s'^i;>, ''. a'^' '■ A. ‘ 

X>..^pp “ 


lit-. 

r 








































/ 



CHICAGO 


laird a lee , 


PUBL fSHERS. 














’ 

^ t 1 Ji • j 

. it- 9 . 7 *: A 

^ t y^ 5 

^ ft rtB . ^ 


:'.- '. /?■' -•"- .>S\- w ..' ■ X 

VatWl#-'^"- ^'^A.?*4-%'*"^^-- .'js 

■ •.i;*ii#'■■:,■’■.;••'■ /■..I 

ippfefei*: ;;.. ^;! .,: 5 ;’^.-.--!^‘^^'i5 4 




SWEET ADIN 



SWEET ADIN 


BY 


LILOLA OLIO 

or 

LORD GLENADIN 


V 


“Come now, Sweet Maids, 
And listen to my praise; 
For little Cupid has made 
Olio happy all his days.” 




-The Author. 


CHICAGO 

Laird & Lee, Publishers 

1891 









o 

o 


yO^ o 


0 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1891, by George A 
Kirkland, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washing¬ 
ton., D.C. \ 

All Rights Reserved. 

.-Cc 


'\i 








, I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I 

Page 

Olio Locates at Growburgtown—Roaring 
Springs—A boiling Sea—The Paper 
Ball—Storm-Song of Sweet Adin 
wherein he Reveals his Name. 9 

CHAPTER II 

The Girls of Rolling Plain—Adin’s Harp 
—Striking Narrative of the Battle of the 
White Rose. 31 

CHAPTER III 

Sweet Adin’s Will—The Placid Moon- 

The Frail Memorial. 75 

CHAPTER IV 

The Morning Star—Come to my Bower... 106 

CHAPTER V 

Olio Accepts the Office of Attorney in 
General. 12Z 






CHAPTER VI 


Sweet Adin’s New Will—Glenadin— 

The Birds of Glenadin. 136 

CHAPTER VII 

The Unfinished Song—Sweet Adin’s Bu¬ 
reau of Education for Maids of North 
America—Sweet Adin’s Academy. 149 

CHAPTER VHI 

Olio Becomes Lord Glenadin—The City 
of Sweetadin on the Sunflower River— 

To the Sweetadian Girls.159 


% 





SWEET ADIN 


CHAPTER I 


One dark stormy night about the middle of 
the month of April, in the year 1855, I was 
quietly sitting before the open fire-place of my 
log-cabin and gravely thinking by what favor¬ 
able means I might overcome the difficulties 
before me in the pathway of life, and best 
succeed at the bar. 

And by giving my imagination a wide, 
pleasing view of its own, indeed I could plain¬ 
ly see many far-away fields that inspired my 
ambition and invited me to fight right on in 
the great battle of professional life. 

So generous hopes enriched me with the 
many gems and diadems that crown the gen¬ 
teel life of a famous lawyer. 

My log-cabin, too, was to give place to a 
fine southern mansion. 

9 




10 


S1VEET ADIN 


Now a fine southern mansion, I say, for I 
was at that time located on the wild frontier 
of a southwest state. 

I traveled over the South and West to make 
a careful personal inquiry about the moral and 
legal habits of the people, and when I had well 
nigh paid out all the money taken along for my 
professional tour, I procured as a place of 
abode a log-cabin some two miles distant 
from Growburgtown, the seat of justice of 
Pinedale county. 

The state shall be nameless in this story. 

There were other towns in the county that 
will bear a good word. Such were Rolling- 
brook and Pinewoods, each of which being im¬ 
portant enough to have a seat of justice, al¬ 
ways well occupied by a justice of the peace. 

Growburg had but one fault that could be 
laid at its door. It was located on the extreme 
north-west corner of the county, and when I 
first entered the town I spoke in the little 
social meetings around the corners quite com- 
plainingly of this unfavorable circumstance. 

However, I was often told by many leading 
and hopeful citizens that the able member from 
Pinedale had been elected to the legislature 
on that very issue, and should very soon in¬ 
troduce a bill that would, in its legal opera- 


SIVEET ADIN 


11 


tions, disorganize three adjacent counties, 
and thereby make Growburgtown the grand 
manufacturing, legal, social and political cen¬ 
ter of a vast extent of territory, over all of 
which the popular name of Pinedale should 
be legally spread. This view of the future 
glory of Growburg gave it the advantage in the 
ambitious race with rival towns. So I made 
up niy mind to settle down at once and grow 
up with the town without seeking further for 
a more congenial place to display my talents; 
for I had made some very favorable impres¬ 
sions in virtuous society, and also among street- 
cronies of ill-favor and to be shunned by the 
good; but, as members of the same public fam¬ 
ily, it was prudent for me to take them one 
and all into my acquaintance on probation as 
new-made friends. Nor was it a part of my 
purpose to snub anyone on account of old 
clothes or bad grammar. It was my steady 
desire, no matter how cuts were aimed at me 
with the tongue, to make no retorts which in 
return would likely cause a backbiting of any 
sort whatever. And it is a pleasure to ex¬ 
plain the reason why I had my habitation so 
far from court, for I then loved pastoral life 
and noble scenery just as I do now. The pas¬ 
sage of a bird across my way is as full of 


12 


SIVEET ADIN 


grace and motion for me now, at gray sixty, 
as it was then, at romantic twenty-five. 

The disappointed hopes of life will make 
one sad and careless at times. But faded 
hopes cannot efface the ever soul-inspiring 
influence of rural life. The charming birds, 
the green fields, the beautiful foliage of the 
graceful, waving trees, the sweet fragrance of 
the wild flowers blooming all around, and the 
gold-hued leaves of fading autumn, I shall love 
as long as I am a spectator of earthly scenes. 

Indeed the dismal howl of the wolf was never 
as disagreeable to me as to my neighbors, 
and the ungraceful owl under the darkest pall 
of night many a time afforded me deep pleas¬ 
ure with his melancholy oohoo, oohoo, mid¬ 
night song. 

Besides, I had other reasons from making 
my home so far for court. Having been 
reared without proper regard to my muscu¬ 
lar strength, the long walk to and from town 
every day would be rich in good results. For, 
in the first place, the walk in the morning 
would nerve me up and give me breath and 
lung-power, should I chance to be called in 
to legal debate before court or jury. And, in 
the next place, the walk in the evening would 
prepare my appetite for^my evening meal. And 


SfVEET y4DIN 


13 


among the many reasons for choosing a rural 
home, I may, with a fair degree of interest, re¬ 
mark that the road leading from my house to 
town was a great highway, and, in pleasant 
weather, thronged with gay and fascinating 
pleasure-seekers, as well as decrepit and for¬ 
saken lepers, with every form of malady, all 
hastening on to Roaring Springs to obtain 
pleasure and health. 

Faithful pilgrims would travel alone five 
hundred miles afoot, then weary and foot-worn 
they would hasten into the cave, whence the 
waters flowed, throw themselves on the smooth 
granite rocks, and there listen and listen with 
profound amazement to the roar of the sea. 

The arm of a boiling, subterranean sea had 
worn its way from a great and silent depth in 
the earth below, till the rush of its seething 
waters could be heard by the dwellers on the 
surface above. 

Many pleasing little social affairs with the 
young and friendly came across my way and 
diverted my mind from sordid care, when I lived 
in the log-cabin on the frontier. One of those 
I will here relate, as it portrays in a natural 
way the homesick thoughts of a rambling youth 
when far away from friends, home and the girl 
he loves. 


14 


SIVEET ADIN 


One evening, when I was leisurely return¬ 
ing to my quiet home, I overheard a hand¬ 
some youth of some eighteen summers, as he 
sat reclining by a large, white-oak tree near 
the wayside, and whilst he sang in a sweet, 
touching, low tone of voice that found a re¬ 
sponsive chord in my own breast, a love-let¬ 
ter in harmonic rhyme he had written to his 
girl at home. And this is what the youth said 
and sang: 

“the paper ball.” 

“Dear Emma, I cannot write of love 
That was never taught at school. 

For master Gray would preach of lore. 

But loving words were not the rule. 

“If I wrote one touching little line at all. 
And sent the dart across the room. 

Though about school-affairs so very small, 

I was condemned to a tearful doom. 

“One day he kept me in all noon. 

The worst school-disgrace I ever bore; 

In durance vile you saw my gloom. 

As tears ran down my face galore. 

“And what was all this dire penalty about, 
That gave me disgrace in the last degree ? 

I burn, I rage, oh, let me rise in a furious pout: 


SIVEET ADIN 


i5 


Imprisoned for love in the land of the free. 

‘‘You must remember, Emma, a little paper 
ball, 

I flipped so gallantly across the room to 
you. 

The force was too great, it hit the wall, 

Then bounded back to the dreaded 
teacher’s view. 

“The teacher, with dreadful look, unrolled 
the mystic ball, 

And anger lit up with a flame his learned 
eyes. 

Whilst he called out with his fearless gall. 

As he held up to view the wad of tender 
ties: 

“‘Who flipped this ball, I say, to Emma 
Browne, 

Thus making Cupid-love right here in 
books. 

And giving my school such a bad renown .? 

Oh, how evil this amorous love-letter 
looks!’ 

“Then he read aloud, with mighty sonorous 
sound. 

The flattering open letter to Emma 
Browne, 


16 


SIVEET^DIN 


And what it said was no great big fright: 

‘Dear Emma, come to the spelling-school to¬ 
night. ’ 

“Alas! with an ever-loving impulse of mind, 
I wrote just close up to this simple line, 

‘Your most tender and devoted Joe McNeal, ’ 
So in the letter my fate and name I did re¬ 
veal. 

“Such was love, fair Emma in the days of 
3"ore, 

When it was tried in teacher’s madding 
frown, ^ 

Yet time has now enriched my loving store. 
Dear Emma, dear Emma, my own dear 
Emma Browne.” 

This poetical love-letter aroused the feelings 
of by-gone days and made me think of many a 
favorite girl at my boyhood home. 

For I was a lonely bachelor, and led a for¬ 
lorn life with an only man-servant, as black as 
Erebus, of the name of Cicero, who performed 
the household work in toto. 

He cooked, he washed, he dressed the beds, 
and kept the floor of the cabin free from stain. 

He was a successful hunter, and went abroad 
when he had performed the domestic duties of 
the day, to secure game for my table. 


SIVEET ADW 


17 


I repeatedly told him to abjure the devil to¬ 
gether with all his sinful allies. 

Hoping that in my moral teachings he could 
find wisdom to be strictly honest in every un¬ 
dertaking, even should his pursuits call him in¬ 
to the most alluring palaces of sin. 

Furthermore, it was thought that good ad¬ 
vice would give him the morality to do his huntv 
ing far off on the open common plain or in the 
free wild woods, and at any rate on the outside 
of the barn-yards of our neighbors. 

Yet, after all my moral instruction, to be 
candid and tru^, some of the game which now 
and then appe'ared on my table looked suspi¬ 
cious enough. 

My cabin was airy, wide and long, and neatly 
partitioned so that I had one room for myself, 
the other for my servant. 

Cicero would oftentimes vex me with his ex¬ 
aggerate prudence. 

I had to scold and upbraid him about this 
overgrown, timid faculty, and tell him to be 
firm in the face of real danger, and not to give 
way, able man as he was, to a silly impulse of 
fear at the threatening performance of a mos¬ 
quito, or, as it might chance to be, at a mere 
creation or phantom of his own cowardly mind. 

Still my talk on the virtue of the brave 

Sweet Adin~“2 


18 


SIVEET y4DIN 


was for the most part fruitless and in vain. 

Should the wind blow a little above the aver¬ 
age velocity, he would fly before it like a gos¬ 
samer till he reached my cabin. Then, tremb¬ 
ling with fear, he would peep around the corner 
toward the North Pole, throw up his hands and 
exclaim “Bar’s dat norther cornin’.” He meant 
of course the sweeping cold winds which 
periodically visit that country. 

If but the baying of a dog sounded on his ear, 
from a neighboring homestead, he fled like a 
fugitive slave. 

He had been reared in my neighborhood, 
near the old Virginia shore, and had yet to be 
schooled in rough Western ways. 

After this prelude on the familiar scenes of 
my early cabin-home, I will now return to the 
dark stormy night at the beginning of my story. 

A dark stormy night is ever full of many 
awful terrors. 

Strong, fearless man shudders with terror 
and shrinks down in abject humility at the 
sublime sight of stormy darkness. 

Should it happen to be a verdured lane or a 
pleasant, woody vale, when engulfed in a sea of 
darkness, all its cheerful features are gone, and 
beasts of prey, evil spirits and bad men are mas¬ 
ters then. 


SIVEET ADIN 


19 


To quote from Holy Writ on the majesty of 
darkness; 

“Thou hast appointed darkness, and it is 
night; in it shall all the beasts of the woods 
go about.” 

“He maketh darkness His pavilion, He 
dwelleth in the thick clouds.” 

“And darkness was upon the face of the 
deep.” 

“Men loved darkness rather than light be¬ 
cause their deeds were evil.” 

“A day of clouds and thick darkness.” 

And when poor, sorrowful old Job, the 
grandest figure of all, had cause to lament his 
afflictions, he said: 

“Before I go and return no more to a land 
that is dark and covered with the mist of death.” 

And again: “A land of misery and darkness 
where the shadow of death and no order but 
everlasting horror dwelleth.” 

The sayings of the prophets were perhaps 
figurative, but it so fell to my unhappy lot that 
the dark stormy night which visited my cabin 
on the wild frontier was the most gloomy, and 
all in all, the most sublime, in features of dark, 
vivid and roaring elements, since the days of 
the glacial period, when ice-mountains came 


20 


SIVEET ADin 


sailing down from the far north and plowed up 
earth and sea. 

Reflecting about many things that concerned 
my future welfare, I had sat up by my fire¬ 
side, still thinking the storm would soon abate 
its fury and allow me to retire in peace for the 
night. 

However, it was not to be so. The roar of 
thunder became omnipotent, and the light¬ 
ning flashed around in sheets and darted down 
in bolts till it really seemed to set the whole 
world on fire. The furies of the warring ele¬ 
ments beat down on my cabin till I was, with¬ 
out a doubt, in the very “shadow of death.” 

In the meantime, hailstones began to patter 
loudly on my roof. 

This was not at all alarming, for my cabin 
was well covered with oaken clapboards, an 
inch or more thick, and I was fairly confident 
that I was protected from the very worst storm- 
elements. 

Soon after the hail began to patter, though, 

I was very much alarmed at a loud, violent 
knocking on my door. 

This of course was not dangerous but was 
enough to make troublesome reflections run 
wildly through my brain and embarrass my 
peace of mind. 


SIVEET ADIN 


21 


“Ah! the sheriff, Tom Powers, has come to 
make a midnight-levy on my goods,” 1 said, in 
a low tone, as I pressed my lips together in 
a fit of desperation. 

These harassing fears were caused by a scur¬ 
rilous item of news that appeared a few days 
before in a newspaper called the “Growburg- 
town Bumblebee.” 

The “Bumblebee” would, on every oppor¬ 
tunity, sting me most sharply. 

Here below is a copy of the item: 

The hungry-faced, bareboned, graceless 
clown and would-be lawyer of the very odd, 
and, as it sounds to our ears, too effeminate 
name of Lilola Olio, who, out of some kind 
of selfish charity, is unlawfully harbored by 
the coroner of Pinedale county, has. we now 
give him fair warning, got into the ‘Bumble¬ 
bee about as far as he can get this summer; 
and we would kindly advise our innocent fe¬ 
male friends who handle his soiled linen at 
the laundry, and we may as well say in short 
that we advise our friends, wherever they may 
be found in Pinedale county, to look out and 
look sharp. 

“Don’t lengthen the account.” 

This corrosive item of news made me think of 



22 


SIVEET ADIh! 


the sheriff, when the knocking on the door dis¬ 
turbed my peace. 

For nothing in this wide world was so likely 
to create a panic among my creditors, nor could 
anything be more injurious to my moral charac¬ 
ter, than this personal item of news. 

This bad report might cause a violent de¬ 
gree of temper among my creditors, who, 
doubting either my honesty or ability to pay, 
would come on me pell-mell, making desperate 
grabs for my chattels and person, thus making 
my disgrace complete, putting me under the ban 
of good society, and forever in the rogues’ gal¬ 
lery. However, my door was strongly bolted 
with solid bars of steel, and I was just in that 
frame of mind, not to open it till the storm 
had subsided, or strong circumstances forced 
me, as it were, to surrender, for the uproar of 
the wild elements could evidently shield me 
from any idle charges of misanthropy there¬ 
after. 

Oh! the shivering hailstones! How they did 
come down on the roof! Larger and larger, the 
cold terrors grew till I thought in my very soul 
the thick oaken boards, which had stood so 
firmly between the roaring hurricane and my 
head, would surely be shivered and blown away. 

Amid the dismal forebodings of this dark, 


SIVEET ^DIN 


23 


stormy scene, the rapping on the door became 
louder and louder, thereby further increasing 
my fears. 

At last my first resolution to make the mid¬ 
night intruder stay out of doors, until the tur¬ 
moil of wind and hail-stones had ceased to 
threaten my cabin, was overruled. 

I could no longer remain in this doubtful 
state; and quietly slipping to Cicero’s couch I 
aroused him from his slumber, telling him how 
ominous our affairs looked, and what kind of 
danger seemed to lurk about the door in this 
way. That some one was standing under the 
roof of our porch there, well protected from 
the icy messengers of the hurricane, whilst at 
the same time he, she, it, they, devil or man, 
was all the time knocking on the door, as if 
seeking to plunder us, and that, in what I could 
foresee of our dangerous prospects—robbery— 
perhaps murder, was near at hand. 

Now thinking this story too thrilling I at 
once amended it, saying, with a grim smile, 
that it was nobody but the sheriff of Pinedale 
county, who had come to seize my goods, and 
as he, my servant, was the only valuable piece 
of property I had, the sheriff would no doubt 
carry him off, thus leaving me alone. Where¬ 
upon Cicero, to my great relief, assumed a very 


24 


SJVEET ADIN 


fearless attitude, declaring that he should die 
in the old log-cabin rather than part from me. 

This bold declaration, coming as it did from 
such a cowardly source, caused my own heart 
to beat less violently. 

And, calling upon every latent element of 
courage to fortify and make me strong, I told 
Cicero to go unbolt the door and sharply ques¬ 
tion the doubtful intruder, whilst I had pre¬ 
pared and taken a firm stand back in the rear, 
with a stout cudgel in my hand, resolved to 
fall upon him with all my might in the event 
he was not above suspicion. If however he 
proved himself to be the sheriff of Pinedale, I 
had it well made up to receive him with open 
arms. To tell the truth, I already had a fine 
lot of cajolery at my tongue’s end for his 
special enjoyment. 

Now the storm was abating, and the disturb¬ 
ing knocks on the door had become clear and 
distinct, above the deep distant roarings of 
the dark elements. 

But, just at the moment when Cicero put out 
his hand to shove the bolts and open the door, 
the sweetest instrumental music and most in¬ 
spiring voice that I had ever heard before, 
broke forth from the dark billows without in 
a charming song to the rending storm. And 


SfVEET ADIN 


25 


in this storm-song, Sweet Adin, the doubtful 
character at my door, revealed his name and 
afterward led me to majestic wealth, as well as 
to the reins of the supreme official power which 
I still hold in hand. 

“the storm-song.” 

“Sweet maids of other days, 

The fond hopes of all time, 

Eternal shall be my lays 

In stormy thoughts sublime. 

“Storm-beat birds of other climes. 

With merry songs around me rise; 

Though but memories of forest-rhymes. 
They transport me to the skies. 

“The cold, snowy hailstone so pure, 

A watery crystal from far above; 

The fair wanderer, from blue azure, 

A little, true missive of love. 

“Bold nature, of you I ever glow. 

Dark clouds of deadly lightning weal, 

Fiery bolts now come down below. 

Your many glaring terrors to reveal. 

“Oh, wild storm in glorious height. 

The old oak is now laid low. 

Its mild shades as cool as night. 


20 


SIVEET JOIN 


Were fresh in the summer glow. 

“There air was cool when sun was high, 
That soon revived the fevered brow, 
And soothed the stranger passing by. 
Farewell, dear, perished, favorite bough! 

“These thoughts can now evermore re¬ 
main. 

For monuments of your sacred past; 
Grand oak of the ancient forest plain. 
Good stories of you will always last. 

“The rose-breathed cow, so tired at noon. 
Alone in rest could loll at ease 
Amid the fragrant woodland bloom. 

There in a shade well made to please. 

“Very bold in looks the old oak owl 
Set up a voice that made all cower. 

And with an eye of most woeful scowl. 
He reigned alone on his lofty oaken 
tower. 

“The frisky squirrel, so nimble in play. 
So dandy of foot and pretty of form. 
That lived in the oak this many a day. 
Lost its home in the rending storm. 

“Move on, heavenly rain, in great might. 
Bright rays can light another morn. 
Kind greetings will follow this dismal night 


SIVEET ADIN 


27 


To cheer birds and beasts now all for¬ 
lorn. 

^‘Now, sweet nature, I am in writhing rain, 
And sweet is my song to the ethereal 
main, 

For Sweet Adin, Sweet Adin is my name. 
Sweet Adin, Sweet Adin of rural fame.” 

Whilst Sweet Adin was thus serenading my 
cabin, Cicero was in such a degree of good hu¬ 
mor that he was unable to control his feelings. 

He danced about as though at an old plan¬ 
tation break-down, and sadly provoked me 
with his coarse conduct. 

It was all gloom and darkness in my house, 
save a few smoldering fire-coals on the hearth¬ 
stones, so he could not see the threatening 
frown on my face. 

I would now and then put out my hand and 
give him a most violent shake, and at the same 
time admonish him in a whisper—not daring 
to mar the scene with ordinary talk—indeed 
my own sensations had marvelously improved. 

A moment before, I was living in great 
dread, for I thought a robber, yea, even a mur¬ 
derer, was at my door; or, reducing it to the 
least troublesome affair I could, there was the 
sheriff of Pinedale, with the papers to levy on 


28 


SIVEET ADIN 


my goods, or perhaps with legal power to seize 
my person, and, with shackles on, drag me 
oh to some loathsome bastile. 

And I was now made, here at my own fire¬ 
side, the famous hero of a serenade, which had 
consolation and good cheer for the most woe¬ 
begone, wayworn and heart-broken pilgrim 
that ever trod the earth. Nevertheless my 
thoughts wandered hither and thither. “Some 
favorite playmate of the days of my happy 
childhood has come to entertain me with a mu¬ 
sical surprise,” I thought. Then again: “It’s^ 
some wandering beggar.” “Oh no! The dark 
night would not allow of a playmate or beggar 
character.” So I went on in this restless vein 
trying to solve my doubts. 

Yet the more I tried to find a true answer, 
the further my mind wandered off from the 
truth. At last, after many transient illusions 
of fancy, I whispered to Cicero to light my dark 
lantern and bring it forthwith to our assist¬ 
ance. The song was finished. 

Everything had returned to silence save the 
mutterings of the disappearing storm. When 
the preliminaries of safety had been well seen 
to, we prepared to face the intruder. I took 
a stand back from the door a few steps, hold¬ 
ing the dark side of the lantern toward me, 


SIVEET ADIN 


29 


and when Cicero unbolted the door I threw the 
full glare of the light on the stranger, at the 
same time remaining behind the lantern where 
it was gloomy, and where in fact he could not 
see the heavy bludgeon manoeuvered in my 
hand. 

Doubt was not yet removed and I was still 
on my guard, with a mind to make a desperate 
stand in defense of my person, if the music, 
pleasant as it was to my ear, should prove to 
be a lure to get the door opened in order to 
commit a felony on me. 

The storm-struck stranger, to be sure, was 
greatly put out when I opened my dark lan¬ 
tern and cast a glaring beam of light on him, 
for he was not able to see me, or any danger 
that might hover around in the darkness. 

“Who are you and what is your errand here, 
at this late hour of the night.?” I shouted in 
a nervous manner at the top of my voice. 

To this, the stranger spoke: “I beg your par¬ 
don,” said he. “Will you please pardon me for 
this serious disturbance of your peace.? I had 
no thought of annoying anyone. I was passing 
by on the road to Growburg, when the storm 
broke on me in such violence that I was com¬ 
pelled to seek shelter, and looking about me 
the lightning revealed your cabin, so I came 


30 


SIVEET ADIN 


hither to the door and knocked again and 
again, but no answer was made within. So, 
seeing this vacant chair on your porch, I quiet¬ 
ly sat down to beguile away, in an address to 
the roaring elements of the night, the lone¬ 
some feelings the storm put on me. I beg 
your pardon, I sincerely beg your pardon.” 


CHAPTER II 


Having been tossed about by many dispo¬ 
sitions of both good and evil, I was not able to 
control the rising tide within my breast; and 
giving way to this torrent of emotional feelings, 
I laughed most heartily at the comical ending 
of my fears. 

At the same time tears of great joy flowed 
freely down my face, for I saw at a glance that 
all danger of a felonious assault was over. 

Nor was it Tom Powers, the sheriff, with au¬ 
thority to drag me off to his bastile. I at once 
proceeded to greet my visitor with proper 
words: 

“O Sweet Adin,” I said in my most pleasr 
ing tones, “Could every storm give me a first- 
class serenade like this one has done, then 
storms should hereafter be- my pleasure. 

“The tones of your musical instrument are 
charming. 


31 



32 


SIVEET ADIh! 


“Your voice has been a gracious gift from 
heaven.’’ 

The face of the benighted stranger bright¬ 
ened up at the warm nature of my hospitali¬ 
ty. He raised his hat and gracefully bowed. 

“If Sweet Adin,” said he,“can banish but one 
tormenting specter from your soul, he will be 
glad to do so.” 

Then a happy time with much open re¬ 
joicing prevailed over storm, fear and sorrow. 

Gently taking the poet by the hand I led 
him into my cabin, and, ordering Cicero to add 
dry sticks of wood to the fire, I viewed my 
strange visitor from head to foot. Now a 
stately old man was before me. He had long, 
flowing gray beard, adding a quaint expression 
to his intelligent face which was blurred and 
begrimed with the stormy elements of the 
night. 

A large musical instrument completed his 
very odd, but not disagreeable appearance. 

When the fresh sticks of wood blazed up 
with a flame and we had become warm and 
genial, I tenderly remarked that I had not felt 
so much romantic youthful inspiration since 
my school-boy days.’ This aroused old memo¬ 
ries in Sweet Adin, and he again delighted me 
with the charming melodies of his voice and 


S^EET ADIN 


33 


harp in a tribute to the school-girls of Rolling 
Plain. 


“the girls of rolling plain.” 

“The dear girls of Rolling Plain 
Were so beautiful and proud, 

They caused me anguish and pain, 

And fretted me in every crowd. 

“The teacher would scowl and scold, 
And quote from texts quite blue, 

‘Say, of this, dear girls, I have told, 

O my dear girls, this won’t do.’ 

“The teacher would talk of the wise 
And the virtue of being tame. 

They would never be able to rise 
And must stop short of fame. 

“The teacher would rise and preach, 

She never tired of giving zest 

When the thought was within reach. 
That Rolling Academy was the best. 

“ ‘Come now, dear girls, to our books, ’ 
As she cast a desperate look around, 

“Come just see how it looks 

Where so many opportunities abound. ’ 

“The girls were given to merry pranks 

Sweet A din —^ 


u 


SIVEET ADlh! 


And so very full of merry spells, 

They always nodded a pleasant thanks 
That served the teacher very well. 

“Dear girls, they loved bat and ball, 

And could catch each other out; 

They would run and trip and fall 
And rise and yell and shout. 

“Full sixty years have sped along 

And filled the world with pomp and 
glory; 

Still the fair girls of Rolling Plain 
Will live right on in song and story.” 

“I am weary,” said Sweet Adin, as he laid 
his harp down on the floor. “I have traveled 
many miles to-day.” 

Being profoundly interested in whatever the 
poet had to say, I could not refrain from making 
inquiries. 

So my desire to learn brought on this dia¬ 
logue: 

Olio—“Your musical instrument appears to 
be of new design.” 

Adin—“Yes, original in every particular.” 

Olio—“So; I see.” 

Adin—“The novelty of my poetry and music 
gives me character to pleeise vast multi- 


SIVEET ADIN 


35 


tudes wherever I may choose to play for them,” 

Olio—“No doubt whatever.” 

Adin—“Had you the disposition to count, 
you should find my instrument has one hundred 
strings.” 

Olio—“Then is it original in every respect .^” 

Adin—“Yes indeed.” 

Olio—“Is there no other such in the world.?” 

Adin—“Not one.” 

Olio—“Did you name it.?” 

Adin—“To be sure I did.” 

Olio—“What name.?” 

Adin—“Adin’s harp.” 

Olio—‘“O, ingenious invention! And I am 
now inflamed with a desire to know more of 
your life. May I inquire where you reside, 
when at home.?” 

Adin—“As to that, young man, there are 
many things you may inquire about, and I will 
give the best answer I have in my memory; but 
you now trespass on privacy and I cannot 
give you definite information as to the local¬ 
ity of my home. However, I will cheerfully 
say this much: My home, with the surround¬ 
ing grounds whereby it is made agreeable, is 
located on the border of the valley of the Sun¬ 
flower river, and distant from your cabin some 
fifteen days’ travel on foot—I should perhaps 


36 


SWEET ADihl 


say three hundred miles or more, in a south¬ 
west course. But further account of my 
habitation I cannot give you.’^ 

Olio—“And you have a home! I marvel 
much at this.” 

Adin—“I have, and one that affords me 
infinite comfort, I can truly say.” 

Olio—“Are your public concerts always a 
financial success.?” 

Adin—“My entertainments are very well 
patronized by every class of people, and very 
liberally paid for, too.” 

Olio—“Then you are not cramped in any 
way for means of support.?” 

Adin—“No, no. Sometimes I play all day 
in a town, first on one corner then on another, 
and take in large sums of money with but 
little solicitation, but I never carry a cent 
away from the town as a profit of my own. 
When I have closed my day’s performance, I 
go around town, seeking out persons most in 
need, and thus donate the entire receipts to 
the poor.” 

Olio—“How astonishing! and may I inquire 
what you do for pocket-money.?” 

Adin—“Yes, you may inquire. However, 
the answer is surrounded with holy memories 


SIVEET ADIN 


37 


of long ago, which it would take some time 
to relate in full.” 

Olio—“Oh, it may be you possessed vast 
power and wealth, but are now reduced, 
through war or unfortunate commercial under¬ 
takings, to a small allowance, for one of your 
rank.” 

Adin—“True enough my dear Olio, I was 
indeed reduced to this strange mode of life by 
an unholy war; and sorrowful thoughts of the 
battle of the White Rose ever rise up in sad 
memories to speak to me; for my loss Was 
not among the ding-dong, money-grabbing 
events of commercial life.” 

‘Olio—“The battle of the White Rose did 
you say.? oh, how odd! When and where was 
the battle ot the White Rose fought.? O, 
Sweet Adin, do tell me all about the battle of 
the White Rose!” 

Here the formality of the dialogue was 
dropped, and Tmanifested such deep earnest¬ 
ness in my entreaties for him to tell his story, 
that he began to hem, clear his throat and 
hitch about, as if yielding to my importunity. 
Still keeping up my appeals with much warmth 
all the while, he soon consented, and the 
story is given here as I got it from his own 
guileless tongue: 


38 


SIVEET ADIN 


STORY ABOUT THE BATTLE OF THE WHITE ROSE. 

“Well Olio,” said Sweet Adin, beginning 
with little animation, but afterward warming 
up with the zeal of a stage performer, “you 
seem to be so much pleased with whatever I 
have to say of my early adventures, that I 
will, barring little details, tell a short story 
about the battle of the White Rose. So listen 
faithfully that it may not be told in vain. 

“When I was twenty-seven years old, I was 
possessed of wealth, of great commercial influ¬ 
ence and was thought to be handsome, too. 
At that time, I was a successful sailor in the 
merchant trade on the grbat Sunflower river, 
and owned the good ship ‘Fairyland.’ Now, 
along the shores of the Sunflower, were the 
villages and trading posts that made my enter¬ 
prise profitable. For it was with the Indian 
traders that I exchanged blankets, trinkets, 
meal, coffee, tea, sugar and all the necessaries 
and luxuries that are usually exchanged for 
buckskin and the various kinds of furs, feathers 
and such commodities in general as are well 
known to be furnished only by the wild red 
men of the forest. Sometimes my cargo, as 
I proudly sailed down the broad Sunflower, 
was as curious and exciting to others as it was 


SIVEET ADIN 


39 


valuable to me. It would be made up of 
very odd merchandise. My wild animals 
aboard, half reclaimed from their wild state, 
would have made a fashionable zoological 
show, to travel abroad with and exhibit to a 
delighted world. May be there would be one- 
hundred pretty pet fawns, so nimble and lithe; 
a great many domesticated birds of fascinat¬ 
ing colors; various kinds of little household 
pets for ladies and children, as well as grace¬ 
ful elks, burly-looking buffaloes and so forth; 
and now and then, to be sure, some young 
Indians, that had been coaxed away from their 
forest home by rich Europeans and induced 
to visit the old country for the laudable' pur¬ 
pose of learning the charming ways of the 
white people. 

“Sometimes when the ‘Fairyland’ would be 
gliding down the Sunflower like a rain-cloud 
floating above on the balmy air of June, the 
many wild wonders I had on board would 
cause me some annoyance by attracting to 
the banks of the river envious red men, with 
whom I had not a familiar or friendly acquaint¬ 
ance. On many such occasions, arrows would 
come whistling into the ship, but rarely caus¬ 
ing me any harm, having spent their force 
before they hit. 


40 


SIVEET ADlhJ 


“When the wild men gathered in such num¬ 
bers along the river as seemed to menace my 
security in person or property, I would order 
a cannon that I always carried on the fore¬ 
deck to be fired at them. Whereupon the 
barbarous aborigines would at once take to 
their heels and run off into the woods in a sad 
fright, to hide away from my observation. 
Nor did I ever use in these skirmishes any¬ 
thing more solid or dangerous than the leaves 
of the forest trees, or a wet paper-wad, soundly 
pounded in at the muzzle. This kind of 
ammunition was noted for causing a terrific 
report that at once frightened the inhabitants 
of the wild country for miles around. 

“Having outlined my business pursuits, so as 
to give the proper foundation, it is time to take 
up the story of the White Rose. One of the 
traders with whom I had long exchanged 
commodities, dwelt on a beautiful elevation 
overlooking the Sunflower river. His log- 
abode was in military style, surrounded with a 
dozen or more firmly built cabins, which were 
used as warehouses to store away the odd 
but current merchandise that he secured 
through barter from the We-ah-men. The 
We-ah-men were then a great and warlike 
tribe of Indians, that had, at the expense of 


SH^EET ADIN 


41 


many brave lives, conquered and occupied the 
country for full three hundred miles south and 
west of Logmont. For Logmont was the 
name of the rural group of cabins owned by 
the famous trader, Count Constantine Auber- 
ville. The count had been a faithful soldier 
of the unfortunate Louis the Sixteenth, of 
France, and had been severely wounded in one 
of the great battles of that aimless and Godless 
revolution that made the obscure Napoleon 
Bonaparte emperor. And the count being, as 
he thought, evermore useless to his own mil¬ 
itary ambition, emigrated, soon after his disa¬ 
bility, from France to America, and, with 
good taste, selected as his permanent home¬ 
stead an elevated woodland overlooking the 
south bank of the Sunflower river; for the Sun¬ 
flower was at that time within The bounds of 
French domain. However, only a few years 
later the French sold all their vast domains 
to the United States of America. 

“Now the source and fountain-head of all 
the old count’s joys and comforts of life was 
found, as it should be, in the society of his 
wife, Phillippa, who still maintained the 
gracious beauty she was endowed with, and 
in that of their charming daughter, Marie 
Antoinette, the only child,, just budding into 


42 


SIVEET ADIN 


a promising womanhood, who was of course 
named in honor of the virtuous and magnani¬ 
mous, but unhappy queen of King Louis. It 
was not long till I began to feel a considera¬ 
ble interest in the pretty Marie, as I still con¬ 
tinued to make my periodical visits to Log- 
mont. And what afforded my mercantile 
calls so much happiness all the while to me 
was the simple, almost child-like, I may say, 
interest manifested by Marie whenever the 
‘Fairy’ touched at Logmont. As soon as the 
ship could be seen from the distant shore I 
was playfully hailed by the waving of a gold- 
hued banner, that I had left with her, on one 
side of which was ‘Fairyland,’ and on the 
other the stars and stripes of my country. 
This simple demonstration of respect to the 
‘Fairy,’ impressed me earnestly with the 
thought that I was a welcome visitor at Log¬ 
mont, even aside from my commercial worth. 

“The count’s daughter was about seventeen 
years old, and provided with the best gifts of 
nature to please the eye and heart. 

“The ‘Fairy’ continued to rest now and 
then at Logmont’s shore, and Marie seemed to 
increase her enthusiasm at each succeeding 
arrival, until what at first was thought of as a 


SIVEET A DIN 


43 


happy pastime acquaintance only, soon grew 
to be friendship of the warmest nature, and 
from that degree matured sure enough into 
love and marriage vows. 

“After our betrothal, the ‘Fairy’ was al¬ 
lowed to delay at Logmont longer than my 
business did really require, for I was busily 
searching everywhere among-the natives for 
golden jewels and brilliant gems of great value, 
to carry to the count’s daughter. At that time 
the proud and grand personage of the power¬ 
ful tribe of We-ah-men, v^as their god-like 
chieftain, named Rainbow. This chieftain, 
the very soul and embodiment of pride itself, 
was unfortunately for me a frequent visitor at 
Logmont, whither his majesty had repeatedly 
gone to exchange the products of the hunt for 
the goods of the count. 

“Now, Rainbow had seen Marie, and loved 
her too, with all the native fierceness of his 
wild Indian heart. 

“And soon after he had become so ardently 
smitten with her charms, he began with an 
energy born of love to add all the charms and 
ornaments that in his rude opinion of beauty 
were graceful to his person and delicate and 
winning to his face. 


44 


SIVEET ADIN 


“He would, for instance, appear at Logmont 
with his face richly painted in all the stripes 
and glittering hues of his namesake, that we 
are often so delighted to see in the rain-clouds. 

“On once reaching the door of the count’s 
cabin, he would strike a heroic statue-like 
attitude, adjust the gay plumage of his person, 
and lovingly inquire for the ‘White Rose of 
Logmont, ’ for that was the title wherewith he 
crowned the beauty of the count’s daughter. 

“The name was so sweet, so proper and so 
pure, and stood up in splendid contrast along 
with the painted face of her Indian lover, and 
was so full of rich perfumes, as well as the 
natural scenery that creates beauty in every 
thing, that I felt sadly humbled down, and as 
though all the rare gems and precious jewels 
that I had lovingly presented to her, were 
not worth the naked compliment paid to her 
charms in giving her that refined nick-name. 

“For with all her Indian surroundings here 
in the deep somber wild woods, what else 
could she be but a white spotless angel of 
heaven, or if less than divine, then truly the 
‘White Rose.?’ 

“It was but a little while till the count’s 
daughter was known by the name alone that 
her Indian lover so aptly bestowed upon her. 


SIVEET ADW 


45 


“She was, in the meantime, made famous 
for beauty, for every sailor on the Sunflower 
river, from the most gallant captain of great 
renown down to the oarsmen of low degree, 
had some word of praise to bestow upon the 
beauty of the ‘White Rose of Logmont. ’ 
“Now it might be plainly foreseen that love 
affairs could not long remain in this neutral 
state, for the fame of the White Rose^was 
spreading over land and sea like the fame of 
some goddess of fable. So when the ‘Fairy’ 
was once more moored at Logmont, I made 
out some trivial excuse to remain over, for a 
few days, to strengthen as it were the com¬ 
mercial friendship of the count. When I had 
been with him a day or two, and had made 
myself as agreeable as I well could in a social 
way, with nothing more heroic than buckskin 
and tobacco to animate the conversation, I 
began to diverge from the business dialogue 
and to give romantic accounts of my success¬ 
ful exploits on the Sunflower river, and tempt¬ 
ingly remarked that could I find some brave 
man of brilliant genius and French education 
as well, who would embark as a commander, 
I would arm the ‘Fairyland’ with powerful 
weapons of war, go abroad on the open sea 
to participate in the glory of Napoleon’s wars, 


4G 


SiVEET ADIN 


and there find adventures that were at least 
more thrilling and in better keeping with my 
ambition as a sailor and bold rover of the sea. 

“The count said that he was now enjoying 
life in the modest, smooth way of an honest, 
obscure man, and had indeed become quite 
reconciled to his slow-plodding lot among the 
We-ah-men. And furthermore, that Log- 
mont had grown popular for honest barter with 
the Indians, so that he could with a short 
stretch of an imagination, made practical with 
years of discipline, behold himself in the after¬ 
noon of life reposing sweetly on the flowery 
beds of ease. Yet with this pleasant future 
awaiting and promising such hearty peace, 
which should be an abundance for anyone, 
that had only ambition enough left to save up 
for the future and grow rich, by steady 
intrenching against poverty, he would endeavor 
to think kindly of my ambitious hopes, and 
inform me by-and by, in proper time, whether 
he should leave Logmont and the tender ties 
of home, where a never-ceasing fountain of 
love and happiness was found in the pure 
society of Phillippa and Marie. 

“These war-like plans, so full of the glories 
of war on the sea, I had offered the count so 
as to call particular attention to my ambitious 


SIVEET ADIN 


47 


qualities and lofty hopes to out-do the aver¬ 
age sailor in his honorable life ventures. 
Behind this bold mask of war, I might cun¬ 
ningly find out if he had had any thought 
before then of giving the White Rose away in 
marriage to the chieftain Rainbow. For I 
could foresee that he might be miserly inclined, 
and thus desire to heap up his wealth; and it 
was plain that he could, by such an alliance, 
make himself of great force and favor with 
the We-ah-men. Thus, in our seafaring talk, 
I soon discovered that the count held me in 
first-rate favor, and in short-spoken, plain 
word^ he said that he had long regarded me 
as a young man of worth and a proper suitor 
for the hand of his fair daughter. And in 
this interview the day, yea, the hour even, to 
solemnize the nuptial vows was named, and 
I sailed away from Logmont-shore full of 
pleasing visions of the future, to return on the 
first day of June, A. D, 1806, and wed the 
‘ White Rose of Logmont. ’ True to the White 
Rose, I did faithfully return on the appointed 
day. 

“But alas! O happy visions of my wedding 
day, what a delusion you proved to be. 

“O woeful, miserable day of my life! 

“Grief, grief, grief, heart-rending grief I was 


48 


SIVEET ADIU 


doomed to wed. For the wily Rainbow, full 
of envious rage and love, had seized upon the 
White Rose, and hurriedly fled with his prize 
to his wild forest-home. 

“The news of the abduction so amazed my 
mind and confused every hope I held most 
dear to my heart, that I was for a time unable 
to offer a saving hand or to think of putting 
into operation any military enterprise that 
might be strong enough to succeed. 

“However, to pursue, overtake the enemy 
and recover the count’s daughter was very 
soon the sole theme of my speech and the 
main-spring of my life. The treacherous 
Rainbow had been cordially invited to the 
wedding feast, but, full two weeks before the 
appointed day, he had captured the White 
Rose and rudely carried her off. 

“When I had fairly recovered from the faint 
and prostrate condition wherein the first news 
of the abduction left me, I made a solemn 
vow to high heaven to destroy Rainbow and 
recover the count’s daughter. The first step 
in this chivalrous war was to enlist and equip 
an army of knights, sufficient in number and 
valor to pursue and subdue the foe. So, with¬ 
out delay I instituted a new military order, 
naming it ‘The Knights of the White Rose,’ 


SIVEET ADIN 


49 


of which I was to be the grand master, but my 
knights, in addressing me, would never refer 
to the title my order had given me, being bet¬ 
ter pleased with ‘General Adin,’ by which 
title they referred to me in the presence of 
any kind of company, whether military or 
civil. When the regulations of the order were 
written and agreed upon, I mustered all the 
crew of the ‘Fairyland,’ and many other vol¬ 
unteers, into my military service, and fur¬ 
nished each cavalier with the latest improved 
destroying implements of war, together with 
good horses for all. 

Beside the sailors from the Sunflower river 
who joined my valiant order of knights, there 
was also Glencoe Fearnot, the proprietor of 
the devil-show. Now the occupation of this 
wonderful man had been, for a long time 
before the war of the White Rose, to travel 
about the country from town to town and 
amuse the people by exhibiting his devil. 
This show was simple enough in its principles 
of make-up, yet for all that an awful specta¬ 
cle to see. An exhibition of the evil-one was 
always given under the gloomy pall of the 
most intense darkness. It required blind 
darkness indeed to show him off to advantage, 
for otherwise he was not at all terrifying or 

Sweet Adin—4 


60 


StVEET y^DIN 


interesting as a show. The devil was made 
of India rubber artfully stretched on a wire 
frame, and when dressed up and ready to be 
seen he appeared to be a monster of danger¬ 
ous character, for he had long sharp dragon¬ 
like claws and a horrid set of white polished 
teeth, and gentle blue eye-balls, that shone 
nevertheless like two fiery meteors in the 
spacious heavens, as well as mighty broad 
wings that promised to carry him to the ethe¬ 
real regions above. So let me prepare the 
imagination all at once by saying that he was 
a very sad fright to behold. This devil was 
made, it seems fair to suppose, in imitation 
of the one a man is sure to see, in his night¬ 
mare after idly sitting around with his neigh¬ 
bors many hours, celebrating, with due thanks¬ 
giving, such old festal days as the Fourth of 
July and Christmas, and imbibing too freely 
of a famous beverage called lager-beer. And 
when Glencoe Fearnot’s devil had his wings 
spread as if to soar beyond the clouds above, 
it would be hard to tell them apart—that is, 
which was Fearnot’s devil or which was the 
devil of a lager-beer nightmare. On account 
of his languid-blue eyes, which were sonie- 
times made to appear so by Fearnot’s skill of 
manipulation, the girls, who frequently 


SWEET ADW 


51 


attended the "show, called him the blue-eyed 
devil. This show-devil was made to possess 
all the hideous powers he seemed to have over 
men, by putting many mottled glass lamps of 
flaming oil on the inside of his elastic skin. 
Now, light itself is always pleasing in every 
aspect, when it is natural or not overdone 
However, light we call natural comes to us 
from other worlds than our own. Behold the 
light of the radiant sun, of the placid moon 
and of the twinkling little stars. And I am 
not so ready as others may be to call all those 
barbarians, without any hope of intellectual or 
moral relief, who worship the sun as if that 
universal luminary were the visible father of 
us all. And descending to lesser lights, who is 
it that is too dull to be moved by spiritual 
inspiration, when strolling at leisure, with the 
soul at peace, under the blue canopy of the 
overhanging heavens, whose immortal glbry 
is everywhere made manifest by the genial 
lights of moon and stars.? But lights con¬ 
structed by human hands are not, at all times 
and places, pleasing, for they may appear in 
the grave stillness of night when everything is 
cheerless and the foreboding of the mind 
makes darkness the most charitable cover for 
the light-haunted wayfarer. Of this fear- 


52 


SIVEET A DIN 


making character were the lights that Fear- 
not’s devil shed upon the bewildered specta¬ 
tors, from his mouth, eyes, nose and huge 
body; for it must be told that he could be 
stretched to a prodigious size, and when thus 
lit up in monster proportions, apparently in a 
furious rage, in the gloom of a dark night, 
the influence on the spectators was both pleas¬ 
ing and terrifying. To people, who required 
an appalling and sublime act to stir the blood, 
the devil-show was a good diversion and play. 
On the other hand, to those who were of a 
timid temper and easily startled at hobgoblins, 
the appearance of the devil was almost death; 
and it was much better for this class of people 
not to visit the show at all. 

“Now, as to the moral effect of the scene, it 
has been said by one in a high place and well 
prepared to speak there, that many an evil 
workman laid down his tools and in utter dis¬ 
gust turned away from his sinful workshop, on 
once beholding Glencoe Fearnot’s ingenious 
devil. So effective was the sham in personat¬ 
ing his Satanic majesty that the spectators, at 
many of the exhibitions, became spell-bound 
and stood stiff and still in their tracks, utterly 
powerless to move away from the devilish 
scene. The skeleton-bones and elastic skin 


SfVEET ADIN 


53 


of the devil could be taken asunder and neatly 
packed in comparatively small bulk. So 
Glencoe Fearnot advised me to pack him 
down in a small box and secretly put him in 
the bottom of our provision wagon, that would 
of course accompany ‘The knights of the 
White Rose, ’ and according to military fore¬ 
sight take up the rear of the marching column. 
‘For,’ said Fearnot, ‘my plan. General Adin, 
if I am to be a knight and of counsel in the 
war of the White Rose, that has for the goal 
of its ambition the restoration of Count Auber- 
ville’s daughter, is to make a midnight assault 
on the enemy when he is asleep, and in the 
event that we be vanquished and beaten off, 
I shall endeavor to cover our rear and flanks 
with the devil, for, ’ he exclaimed, with loud 
emphasis of speech, ‘I am almost certain the 
enemy will not have the hardihood to face 
him.’ To Fearnot’s plan of campaign I bent 
a most willing ear, for my own experience as 
a sailor had been previously confined to the 
tranquil waters of the Sunflower river, on a 
peaceful merchant ship, so that I could, in 
the nature of things, know but little of the 
dangers of the land and wild woods, and much 
less of the cunning, fox-like wiles of the 
general, who can slip up and bag an enemy in 


54 


S^VEET ADIN 


his net or at any rate scare him away off the 
field. The only element of success in me that 
I ever knew of, was to be found in my sailor¬ 
like dash to the front, and the boldness to pur¬ 
sue without enumerating my prospects ahead, 
and, whenever I could catch up with the 
enemy, to make a fearless fight. 

“It was further on in our council of war, 
that Fearnot added, ‘we must keep the devil 
and his horrible power over men as a profound 
secret from all your cavaliers, lest they may 
depend on him rather than on their own 
strong arms and chivalrous valor. ’ So the 
likeness of his Satanic majesty was carefully 
packed down in the bottom of the wagon, there 
to remain unannounced to anyone of the 
army of knights save Fearnot and the com¬ 
mander-in-chief, myself. Count Auberville 
naturally insisted on having some rank and 
authority in the ‘Knights of the White Rose,’ 
but after prevailing on him with much good 
advice to stay at home, I discouraged him in 
this fatherly purpose, and he remained at Log- 
mont, where he could soothe Phillippa, his 
bereaved wife. However, it was not until I 
had absolutely bound myself with uplifted 
hand in a vow to high heaven that I should 
boldly march in the van of the knights and 


SIVEET ADIN 


55 


there perform as well as mortal flesh could, 
that I at last dissuaded him from his first reso¬ 
lution to lead the forlorn hope against Rain¬ 
bow. It was my lot to be general in com¬ 
mand of all the forces, whilst Sir Knight Fitz 
William Strongbow, nicknamed well enough 
Bill Bow, who, before the war of the White 
Rose was in my service as a pilot of the 
‘Fairy,’ loomed up high in rank next to my¬ 
self and was given the reins of much authority. 
At the same time, Sir Knight Glencoe Fear- 
not formed an unknown independent force or 
quantity as it were, and in command of our 
terrifying ally, the devil. 

“When all hands were ready, the army set 
forward on the march in a line of perfect 
dress-parade discipline. Our flag—we had 
colors, of course—was of solid green silk, so as 
to give to the principal figure a good back¬ 
ground for display. The main figure was a 
large white rose bud that seemed to be open¬ 
ing out in full bloom. On the reverse side, in 
white silk, was the name of our order, ‘The 
Knights of the White Rose. ’ So when the 
cavaliers had taken leave of their sweethearts 
and friends and had passed the parting word 
around, the army set out with a loud cheer 
for‘General Adin,’asthey called me. Not 


56 


SIVEET ADIN 


to be out-witted, Sir Knight Glencoe Fearnot 
and myself led some distance in advance of 
the main body. We did this, not as a forlorn 
hope as it would seem to be, but to prevent 
some trick or ambuscade of the enemy. 

“Leaving out trifling details, let me state 
that at the end of a fifteen days march, the 
camp of Rainbow was sighted in his extensive 
forest home. It proved to be the famous 
camping ground of the We-ah-men army, and 
where for generations before the war of the 
White Rose they had been vigilant against 
surprise and trained their young braves to per¬ 
form daring feats, the village of women and 
children being sixty miles or more farther 
back in the wilds. Here then, on this camp¬ 
ing ground, the warriors had nian}^ a time 
before prepared for battle, unmolested and 
without fear of any invading foe. When the 
We-ah-men were found, Fearnot and I 
retreated in silent haste to our little army of 
knights, and concealed them in an almost 
impenetrable thicket of green briars and brush¬ 
wood, and the night coming on proved to be 
of the most intense fear-creating darkness. 
Taking advantage of the friendly darkness, 
Fearnot and I left our green-briar cover and 
crawled up close to the camp of our enemy to 


SIVEET ADIN 


57 


get some idea of their number. There were 
forty lodges or tents, all made of the dressed 
skins of wild animals taken in the chase, each 
lodge being twenty-five feet high, twenty feet 
in diameter at the base and four feet at the 
apex or top, and open so as to let the smoke 
of the fire out and the light of the day in. In 
each lodge there were twenty warriors, which 
made an army all told of eight hundred braves. 
Some of the lodges were so glass-like trans¬ 
parent that the lights on the inside radiated 
through them to such a degree as to give the 
scene a grandly picturesque appearance, when 
the paintings on the inside of the walls were 
taken into account, for I was near enough to 
study these rude pictures. Indeed the exam¬ 
ination gave me pleasure, for I could plainly 
see the evil spirit or devil painted in hideous 
shape on one part of the wall, and the good 
spirit in gaudy colors and in better aspect on 
another. When we had taken a full account, 
we returned to our briar retreat where the 
knights were ready at my warning to mount 
their horses, which were near by. ‘What a 
fine show the devil would make to night,’ 
whispered Fearnot to me, as we lay near to¬ 
gether in the briar thicket, coolly planning the 
best way to get at the enemy and have them 


58 


S^VEET ^DIN 


at a vantage in the first whirlwind of the 
impending battle. I cheered Fearnot’s ambi¬ 
tious remarks with saying that the devil might 
yet bear off the first honors of the army. For 
I had the prophetic knowledge in me to fore¬ 
see that much might depend on Fearnot and 
the devil, in the event that the valor of my 
knights should become faint and weaken too 
soon in death-dealing battle, and a sudden 
retreat to the rear should happen. It was 
indeed a fact as stable as the Polar Star that 
Rainbow could not be forced to retreat from 
the presence of a mortal enemy. So to slay 
him was a matter of the very first importance 
for me. After forming many plans of assault, 
of ambuscade, of how to act in the perilous 
hour of battle, one was at last agreed upon as 
follows: 

“First, Sir Knight Glencoe Fearnot to go 
on in front of the main army, taking the wagon 
with him, so as to haul the devil up very near 
to the We-ah-men camp, where his Satanship 
could be taken out unperceived by my army. 

“Secondly, Sir Knight Bill Bow to command 
the reserve and rear, and on no account to 
allow the space between the reserve under 
him and the main army under me to widen 
above three hundred paces; and it was made 


SIVEET ADIN 


59 


as emphatic as I could very well make it in rnv 
orders, that should a general battle ensue, 
then Bill Bow should at once hasten the 
reserve up to my relief. No rule of action in 
the whole programme of battle was laid down 
without proper foresight. And Fearnot and 
myself were both heartily agreed that it would 
be very unwise and at the same time not at 
all chivalrous do divert the energies of my 
cavaliers away from their own inherent 
impulses to do heroic deeds at the hour of 
death by letting them into the secret that we 
had such an invincible ally as the devil in 
camp and on our side. For a supernatural 
understanding of this kind, it was as plainly 
seen as the light of day, might lead to depend¬ 
ence, the wildest confusion and danger, yea, 
perhaps death to all, and if it did not lead to 
death all around it could possibly lead to 
worse in causing a craven, disastrous flight of 
my combined forces of knights and devil. 
Now my army boldly issued forth from the 
briar-thicket and marched stealthily forward, 
ever heeding and watching my cool, unruffled 
conduct as we approached the We-ah-men. 
My cautiously whispered orders were strictly 
obeyed. 

And now Sir Knight Glencoe Fearnot pro- 


60 


SU/EET ADIN 


ceeded in the van, some little distance, with 
the wagon, ammunition and devil, till he was 
within a stone’s throw of the foe; and there he 
halted, took the devil from his place of conceal¬ 
ment and arrayed him in gorgeous, attractive 
attire, then carried him out where he could 
be in plain view of the We-ah-men. Here he 
placed him under some somber spreading elms 
whose foliage, rustling in the midnight air, 
gave the dark, melancholy pall of night, a 
sobbing, lonesome sound that was grandly 
supernatural. 

While Sir Knight Fearnot was thus taking 
his position, I marched up with the main army 
of cavaliers and ordered them to dismount 
quietly and fasten the reins of their chargers 
to the swinging limbs of the great forest trees 
that grew everywhere about in sublime grand¬ 
eur. I told my knights to be cool, to be firm, 
to be defiant amid the tempest of murderous 
missiles that would soon fill the air, and, at 
all times, when not engaged in a hand-to- 
hand struggle, to remain at their posts of .duty, 
ready to execute my orders even unto the 
sacrifice of life, if so required of them, when¬ 
ever I could see a fair opportunity to make a 
winning charge. Yet, after ail, we made a 
loose, blundering movement that might have 


SIVEET A DIN 


61 


proved fatal to the rich and glorious honors of 
war we so ardently hoped to win.. It was in 
this way: 

“We had fetched our horses too near to the 
We-ah-men camp, and the sleepless braves 
hearing the trampings of hoofs in the solemn 
stillness of midnight were much alarmed 
thereat, and came swarming out of their lodges 
in great numbers, and, holding their hands to 
the eyebrows, peered out in the blind dark¬ 
ness toward my army. Seeing that not a 
moment should be lost, I was busily forming 
and bracing up my cavaliers with courageous 
whispers to abjure fear and the cowardly gob¬ 
lin thought of death, and not once thinking at 
the time of Fearnot and the devil. At any 
rate I had no idea whatever that he would 
illuminate our famous ally. Indeed that 
illumination was to be made only in case my 
assault did not carry the works of the enemy 
and scatter and scare him off the field. To 
be more explicit, it was to be this way: Should 
I be badly defeated and my retreat supersede 
every hope of victory, then, and not till then 
—such was our understanding—was Fearnot 
to appear on the stage of action and interpose 
with our supernatural friend. And my last 
words to him before the battle began were 


C2 


SIVEET ADIN 


these: Fly to my relief, my dear Sir Knight 
Fearnot, in case we be beaten off, and make 
a bold stand between my rear and the jubi¬ 
lant foe. 

“As I have said before, I was just forming 
my knights for an impulsive charge, when 
Fearnot, neglecting our well matured plans, 
was, in an impulse, carried away with the 
threatening scenes of the moment, and, sure 
enough, illumined the devil, whose glaring 
blue eye-balls, horrid set of dentist-polished 
white teeth as well as fiery-hued red skin, 
caused my horses, that were all hitched, to 
take fright and snort, stampede, and carry on 
at a frightful rate, and in the end to break 
away from their fastenings and fly in the 
greatest of terror to the rear. The poor 
knights also were sadly scared. Why not.? 
Could the valor of mortal men resist the force 
of such an appalling scene.? Oh no! dismay, 
fear, abject terror and Fearnot's devil took 
control of the field, and of all the arts and 
stratagems of war that we had devised, as the 
knights had had no premonition whatever of 
the devil’s presence. All, all was a pell-mell 
of confusion! and there was such a Babel of 
the sounds of battle ringing everywhere, that 
it did really appear, amid the shades of night, 


SIVEET ADIh! 


63 


as though horsemen in countless numbers 
were raining down from the vaults of the 
heavens above on the lodges of Rainbow. 
During the storm of battle, I was giving 
orders as fast as they could flow out from my 
tongue. Alas! my most imperative declama¬ 
tion of tactics vanished away in the damp 
midnight air, or added more sadness to the 
melancholy fears, snortings and tramplings of 
my fear-stricken horses and cavaliers. Within 
five minutes after Fearnot raised the black 
curtain of night, with his illumined devil, 
every horse in the army had broken away 
from its fastenings and fled in terrific haste to 
the rear. The Knights being afoot naturally 
enough followed, to the utmost limit of their 
abilities to run. When the heart-rending 
furies of the devil broke loose on the main 
army under me, I momentarily expected Sir 
Knight Fitz William Strongbow to arrive and 
form on my right wing. To expedite his 
coming I made all the signs of distress that 
had been understood between us at our last 
parting, but he came not. And in a bewil¬ 
dered state of mind, as hope after hope per¬ 
ished within my anxious soul, I called aloud 
in grief-stricken tones, ‘O, where is Sir Knight 
Bill Bow.? oh, where is Bill Bow and the army 


64 


SIVEET ADIN 


reserve? Come to my aid on the wings of the 
wind, Bill Bow! Come to my aid, I command 
you. Sir Knight Bill Bowl’ 

“However, Bill Bow did not come to my 
aid, nor did he ever appear on the battle¬ 
ground of the White Rose. The soldier was 
not in him to hold him at his post in the 
presence of danger. He had undoubtedly 
caught a glimpse of the devil, even before my 
appeals could reach his ear, and perhaps 
involuntarily, yet all the while ingloriously, 
fled from the field. To shorten the story 
about the battle, I will simply add that all the 
knights and nearly all the horses reported at 
Logmont in the course of a few days, save 
the ill-stared Bill Bow. After I had carefully 
investigated all the circumstances closely, 
attending the retreat of my cavaliers, I found 
justice enough in their favor to give each one 
an honorable discharge certificate, and in the 
same certificate I often put, whenever it was 
evident that distinction had been fairly won, 
my official signature to the mention of heroic 
conduct in the very face of the devil. Now, as 
to the history of Bill Bow subsequent to the 
battle of the White Rose, I can say but little, 
not knowing much to tell. Nevertheless, to 
complete the story of the war I will tell what 
little I know. 


SIVEET ADIN 


G5 


“Some years afterward I met a man known 
as ‘Tim the Skipper,’ who told me a fine tale 
about the life and whereabouts of Bow. In¬ 
deed Tim greatly surprised me, for when on 
inquiry he heard my name, he thereupon put 
his hand down in his pocket and fetched out 
a letter, old and badly pocket-worn. The 
letter had been written by Bow and intrusted 
to Tim, who in the event of meeting with a 
man of the name of Sweet Adin, and upon cer¬ 
tain identification, should faithfully deliver the 
same. When the letter was written. Bill Bow 
was safe in Canada within the confines of 
George the Third, although the letter, being 
sadly decayed, did not say so. I learned that 
part from Tim. Still I could make out this 
much, ‘My Dear General Adin.’ [He yet 
regarded me in a military light.] ‘How did 
you ever escape from Rainbow after our 
defeat.?’ [A defeat was still in him; he had 
run away too soon.] ‘Was it Rainbow him¬ 
self, who had that infernal fiery look—to my 
notion the very appearance of old Satan.? 
[This was Fearnot’s devil.] ‘I feel the smart 
of defeat as fresh as ever on me. Did you 
court-martial any of the knights for disobedi¬ 
ence or cowardice.? What I, most of all, am 
anxious to hear about, is this all-important 
Sweet Adin —5 


G6 


SIVEET A DIN 


matter: Did you recover the White Rose? I 
mean of course the Count Auberville’s daugh¬ 
ter. Did you again reorganize the Knights of 
the White Rose and vigorously prosecute the 
war to a successful ending? Should the army 
be in the field at the present time and no 
charges of cowardice against me, I am willing 
to return to the front and serve under you till 
the close of hostilities. How many knights 
did you lose, in killed, wounded and missing? 
I managed to escape with two horses—one was 
my own—for I saw all was lost and it was not 
good policy in war to let any property fall 
into the hands of the enemy if it could be as 
well avoided. My great uncertainty of mind 
would not allow me to halt in my retreat till 
I had reached a foreign land, for I felt that I 
should certainly die of corroding grief, were I 
to linger anywhere about Logmont shore. 
Give my love to Count Auberville, also to his 
faithful partner, Phillippa. My dear Adin,you 
will please deliver the answer to “Tim the 
Skipper,” who is a very good friend of mine.’ 

“Although the letter was long I could only 
make out what I have given in this account. 
To be sure I never wrote a letter to the craven 
Bill Bow, nor did I have the least desire to 
cultivate his acquaintance any further. 


SIVEET ADIN 


67 


“Now, Olio, you perceive how I have 
strayed away from the main story of the battle 
of the White Rose, before I had finished it, to 
give a little account of my cowardly subordi¬ 
nate. The only consolation I can find, if any 
at all, in the conduct of my subordinate, is 
found in the well-established fact that all 
wars of any historical consequence must have 
traitors, and the war of the White Rose had 
its bad one in Bill Bow. Now let us return 
to our unfinished battle story: 

“Whilst my army was struggling in the very 
storm and vortex of battle with Fearnot’s 
devil, I was not able to witness like results 
on the We-ah-men. But when my army 
had hopelessly fled the field and I could hear 
only the dim sounds of their foot-falls in the 
homeward race to the far-away town of Log- 
mont, I timidly approached Sir Knight Fear- 
not, who gave me great comfort with his con¬ 
soling story of the disastrous flight of the We- 
ah-men. *‘1 don’t know, General Adin, ’ said 
he, ‘whether it was the devil or the frightful 
hell-born clamor of your horses and men that 
defeated the desperate foe. The devil, I am 
sure, was never more successful than he has 
been to-night. In my opinion, General Adin, 
we may attribute this victory to both forces, 


68 


SIVEET ADIh! 


SO that no one can be despoiled of his due 
honors. I am willing, ’ he added mirthfully, 
‘let the merit of victory rest where it will, to 
share the victor’s crown and the fame of this 
field with you.’ Fearnot was very jubilant 
and happy at the outcome of the battle, and 
well he might be, oh, glorious man! for he had, 
if ever mortal man had before him, crowned 
himself with immortality, and he continued to 
exult. ‘Anyhow, General Adin, ’ he exclaimed, 
‘the field is ours. The We-ah-men have fled 
with fears in them that shall never allow them 
to return again to this sacred soil. ’ 

“To embrace, in our state of superhuman 
happiness, was but natural, and there we stood 
clasped in the arms of each other a little 
while, as our grateful tears fell and mingled 
together on the forest leaves at our feet. 
Recovering from the emotions*of victory, I 
ran in haste to the deserted lodges, and there 
found the White Rose dying of a broken 
heart—death being intensified and. hastened 
on by the'fearful retreat of the We-ah-men as 
they fled away into the forest uttering wild 
ejaculations of terror. The White Rose had 
life enough left to whisper kind filial messages 
of love to the count and to Phillippa, and to 
tell me that she had been treated tenderly by 


SIVEET ADIN G9 

Rainbow, and that it was verily her deep love 
for me that had thus broken her heart and 
brought on her rapid decline and death. Now 
the White Rose, beautiful even in death, 
reposed before me. Soon after, with many 
sobbing feelings of my heart, I began to look 
about the lodges for memorial keepsakes and 
precious mementos of love. ‘Oh how con¬ 
soling were the emblems I found! Yet, alas! 
they were sorrowful too. There were many 
broad pieces of bark, and some fragments of 
buckskin covered over with lines written in 
blue paint. These writings might no doubt 
have told me a noble tale. However, all that 
was legible or that I could any way make out 
was these reassuring lines to me: 

“‘to sweet ADIN.’ 

“‘Come to my forest home. 

Sweet Adin, my lover true. 

Here we’ll live in love alone. 

My heart all devoted to you. 

“‘Oh my heart is aching now. 

And with many a burning tear! 

I still retain the sacred vow 
In love, we made so dear.’ 

“To be sure I wept grievously, in lamenta¬ 
tion of my sacred loss, as I read and reread 


70 


SIVEET ADIH 


again and again these simple loving lines; and 
when a day and night had passed me by, so 
that my grief was barely controllable at all, 
Fearnot and I laid the White Rose in her 
silent grave, with all the solemn love and 
adoration of our souls. Then I looked about 
in the forest for a stately tree, and engraved 
thereon with my knife this simple memorial: 
‘To the sacred memory of Marie Antoinette 
Auberville, daughter of Count Constantine 
and Phillippa Auberville, of Logmont. Died 
of a broken heart, June 21st, in the year of Our 
Lord 1806. Deceased was an angel of beauty, 
and was otherwise known as the “White Rose 
of Logmont.” These lines were written here¬ 
on by a sailor of the name of Sweet Adin, 
who hailed from the Sunflower river, and who 
was the betrothed lover of the White Rose as 
well. ’ 

“This engraving being done, I stood back a 
little from the tree and saw that it was legible 
to any one that could read plain, common 
letters, yet I amended some of the letters that 
were a little doubtful, and then adjourned 
over till another day. The next morning, 
the thought came to me that there should be 
another memorial tree to mark the battle¬ 
ground, so at it I went again and engraved 


SIVEET ADIN 


71 


the following: ‘This tree is to mark the field 
where the battle of the White Rose was fought. 
This battle took place on the night following 
the 21st day of June, in the year of our Lord 
1806. The battle was waged between the 
Knights of the White Rose and Fearnot’s devil 
on the one side, and the We-ah-men on the 
other. The Knights of the White Rose and the 
devil were commanded by Sweet Adin and Fear 
not; the We-ah-men by Rainbow. ’ Now I had 
two memorial trees, the memories of the cru¬ 
el war preserved thereon, the White Rose laid 
away in her sublime forest grave, and I had 
done all I could do for her sacred memory. So 
I carried to Logmont her filial messages of 
love, and when the keenest pangs of grief 
were soothed away, I sold all my possessions, 
and, with Fearnot, returned again to her grave 
and began to cultivate a forest home and 
flower garden around about it. Near this sa¬ 
cred shrine of my ardent youthful love, I have 
constantly lived, and watched the flowers bloom 
in annual freshness for nine-and-forty years. 
Now, my story, I feel, would not be well told 
should I fail to close it with the verses that I 
have so often sung around her grave and 
which are as follows: 


72 


SIVEET ADEN 


“‘the white rose bush.’ 

“‘The white rose bush I planted to cherish 
your name, 

The first sad, lonely summer you were gone, 

Has grown in bloom so white and pure 

That none has consoled me as it has done. 

“‘The white rose I planted for years grew alone, 
Till an idea of beauty pervaded my soul; 

Then my mind soared upward to its ethereal 
home. 

And the flowers of beauty became my goal. 

“‘So I searched through forest and over the 
plain 

And looked for plants all over the land. 

As I ever strove up mountain and dale. 

For pretty flowers I sought on every hand. 

“‘Bright angel! in your name all beauty is 
found 

Here with its shrubbery of ever-blending 
leaves. 

The purest flowers bloom sweetly far around 
And add a grace to nature one never sees. 

“‘Near by the white rose in this Eden of 
flowers, 

There are fragrant plants and delicate vine. 

Yet above all beauty the white rose still towers 
The queen of the garden so perfect and 
divine. ’ 


SIVEET ADIN 


73 


“So this, my dear Olio, is the little fireside 
story wherein I have told my memories of the 
war and battle of the White Rose. The story 
was given for nothing more than the pleasure 
it seemed to give you here, within the clay- 
chinked walls of your humble log-cabin. 
Nevertheless, I have, in every word, endeav¬ 
ored to do equal justice to everybody, and to 
mete out to each character therein?a fair por¬ 
tion of true chivalrous fame.” 

At the close of Sweet Adin’s story, I was 
very emotional, even to such an impulsive 
degree that I exclaimed with much fervor: 

“O, Sweet Adin, oh. Sweet Adin, that story 
sounds to my ears like some romance of the 
fabulous heroes of olden time. Can it be 
true.?” 

“It is true,” said he, with grave looks, “If 
my memory has served me well.” 

Continuing, I said: 

“But you have not told me by what means 
you live.” 

“That,” said he, “may be told in a few 
words. I sold all my possessions, as I have 
already said, had a strong metal safe made, 
filled it with my gold coin, buried it down 
deep in the sand, and when I am out of money 
I go to my gold and get enough to do me for 


74 


SIVEET ADIN 


some time to come. Oh no, Olio, when I give 
entertainments for money, they are always 
connected with some benevolent or Christian 
enterprise for the poor of the town that gives 
me audience.” 

By this time, Cicero had a warm coffee 
beverage prepared, and when moderately 
stimulated with the soothing fragrance, we 
retired to sleep. 


CHAPTER III 


Alas! how soon that sweet repose of mind, 
the gift of story and song, changed about to 
that mental state that was the gift of fear. A 
few hours before I was quietly sitting by my 
fireside, meditating alone on the probabilities 
of my future success at the Growburgtown 
bar—now and then, my ambition vaulting 
away up to some political preferment that in 
my vivid imagination I could foresee. I was 
poor, it is too true, and fearful of my creditors 
and the official managers of the law. Yet, 
with all my besetting troubles of poverty I 
was fairly content with my common lot in 
Pinedale county. I was young, I may say, 
and full of the usual romances of youth, and 
the visit of the poet Sweet Adin to my lonely 
cabin, gave me that spiritual diversion and 
pleasure that the heart so often aches for and 
that cannot be found with gold. When an 
inspiration of happiness and hope comes to us, 
75 



76 


SIVEET ADIN 


it comes spontaneously and free, from heaven 
above. Such was the entertainment of Sweet 
Adin, for he delighted me with harp, song-and 
story till almost dawn of a new day. And it 
was late in the morning when my servant was 
aroused from sleep to perform his household 
duties. When I was dressed and appeared on 
the morning scene, Sweet Adin was still and 
silent in the solemn embrace of sleep. This 
was no matter to fear. But when the morn¬ 
ing meal was prepared, I made an effort to 
arouse him, and to my great distress of soul 
found he was lifeless and, to all visible out¬ 
ward appearances, dead—ye^,indeed dead! I 
was much alarmed at this melancholy turn in 
my affairs; a fit of fear seized me at once. 
To have a lonely traveler die in my humble 
cabin, was enough to cause me many alarm¬ 
ing sensations. Above all, he was a stranger, 
“and no one will know whether he was rich or 
poor,” I murmured to myself. “It may be he 
had great wealth,” my neighbor would say, 
“and the poor, starving lawyer, Lilola Olio, 
has secretly murdered him for his money.” 
And thus foul suspicion might weave its net 
around me. What could I do to ward off the 
blow of public rumor that would surely be 
aimed at me.^ There reposed Sweet Adin, 


SIVEET ADIN 


77 


with his long flowing gray beard almost cover¬ 
ing his body, as he lay stretched out at full 
length on my floor, where he had gone asleep 
the night before. The great crisis of my life, 
as it afterward proved to be, was then on me, 
and I burst into burning tears of grief and 
sobbed most bitterly for some time. Then I 
felt his pulse. 

“Ah,” said I, to my servant, “he is dead, 
dead, dead beyond the shadow of a hope or 
the possibility of a doubt.” Self-defense is 
natural to all men, and is a quality well devel¬ 
oped in me, and as a consequence my thoughts 
turned to self. “If the‘Growburgtown Bum¬ 
blebee, ’” I meditatively thought, “ gets ear 
of this sudden death, I shall be at once 
proclaimed an outlaw and murderer, and 
perhaps the gross multitude will be egged on 
till I shall be lynched by an infuriate mob!” 
Now here I was, as if in the jaws of a strong 
trap with no kind friend at hand to relieve 
me. Again I approached the dead poet and 
shook him most violently, and called aloud in 
my great distress, “O, Sweet Adin, oh. Sweet 
Adin 1 arise! I say, from the dead, and break 
the fetters with which you have bound me 
hand and foot. Come back, come back I 
appeal to you! come back to this world 


78 


SIVEET ADIN 


of darkness and transgression, and relieve me.” 

Ah! it was all in vain to call on the lifeless 
ear of death or to lament with wailings and 
tears. No voice echoed back to me an answer 
from the lips that were sealed with the icy- 
cold relentless hand of death. In the tumult 
of my feelings, I wandered out of my cabin 
and around it, repeatedly, in a state of wild 
tribulation and fear; and as I now and then 
went to the door to cast a last hopeful look 
on the dead, I would, despite my efforts to 
restrain my emotion, lose my self control and 
burst out with a big boo-hoo! into a storm of 
tears. Sometimes I would suspiciously look 
away off down the road toward Growburg- 
town as if dreading more evil and desolation 
from that place. My mind wandered sadly 
about. “What,” I could not help but think, 
“if some visitors should come to my cabin and 
there behold the poet dead on the floor.?” At 
this my great vexation of spirit would begin 
to rise up in my throat and choke me in real¬ 
ity. I was so completely overcome that I 
could not concentrate my mind on any settled 
matter at all. However, a bold spirit soon 
took full possession of me 

Once a tranquil feeling had come to soothe 
my fluttering heart. I ran into the cabin and 


SIVEET A DIN 


79 


with the assistance of my servant soon laid 
the corpse out on my bed, and covered it so 
that there was nothing whatever suspicious* 
about the cabin. Now hope began to revive 
in my breast, and I felt that the most danger¬ 
ous part of my work was already done, and at 
once became cool and of a reflective turn of 
mind, as I had always been until this super¬ 
natural calamity fell upon me. Nothing 
embarrassed or annoyed me now except as to 
the agency or means I should use to dispose 
of the body. When I had become perfectly 
cool and in possession of all my mental facul¬ 
ties, so that they were not unduly swayed by 
fear or hope, I went to the bed and carefully 
searched the dead for papers that might shed 
some light on his private life, calling and 
character. The only paper of much import¬ 
ance, and in fact of any legal consequence, was 
a last will and testament. The other papers 
were manuscript, literary essays and odds and 
ends of no importance to a lawyer—not to me 
at least, in such a solemn matter as I had on 
hand. The will read thus: 

“I, Sweet Adin, being of a sound mind and 
body, and now in the perfect glow of health 
and earthly hope* and without either domes¬ 
tic, political, religious or financial embarrass- 


80 


SIVEET A DIN 


merits, do declare this written memorandum 
to be my last will and testament: 

“In the first place, the metal-safe that con¬ 
tains my gold coin will be found buried in 
Red Forest about fifty paces from the bank 
of the great Sunflower river, and where two 
large oak trees stand about twenty feet apart. 

“One of the trees is hollow in the butt and 
leans toward the other tree as well as over my 
buried gold. There are four notches cut in 
the west side of the east tree, and in a little 
hollow knot that projects out on the north 
side of the east tree will be found ten gold 
eagles. So between these trees you will find 
my gold-coin. Owing to the shifting sands of 
the river, the safe may be buried deeper in 
the earth than necessary. My safe is water¬ 
tight and the gold well tied up in buckskin 
bags. 

“And now, finding that I must at last con¬ 
fide in some friend, I hereby appoint Miss 
Romance Sirene to carry out my will. My 
intentions therein I make plain by mentioning 
them in order: 

“First, Pay my funeral expenses, not to 
exceed in cost one hundred dollars. ^ 

“Second, Pay my doctors’ bills, not to 
exceed in cost fifty dollars. 


SIVEET ADIN 


81 


“Third, Pay Glencoe Fearnot, the keeper 
of my bower and cave, one thousand dollars 
in gold coin. 

“Fourth, Turn over to Fearnot all the 
domesticated wild animals and birds of my 
bower, and that he may hold me more closely 
and dearly in his heart, I desire that he shall 
have my harp that is known as ‘Adin’s harp.’ 

“I wish the preceding provisions to be car¬ 
ried out in full before my remains shall be 
placed at final rest. 

“Fifth, Take charge of my body and bury it 
near by the grave of the White, Rose in my 
flower garden at Glenadin. 

“So far I have made mention of all little 
matters that concern me. 

“Sixth, To the friendless young maids of 
North America, I now give and bequeath my 
entire estate, after Glencoe Fearnot shall have 
got his legacy and all honest claims be paid. 
My safe contains five hundred thousand dol¬ 
lars, all in gold-coin. Miss Romance Sirene 
shall take charge of my gold as soon as she 
can make it convenient so to do after my 
demise, and shall cause to be built or purchase 
a building suitable for a Home for Friendless 
Maids. Then with all possible foresight, 
invest the residue of my estate on such a 

Sweet A din —d',* 


SIVEET ADIN 


sound and productive basis as to create a rich 
endowment fund that shall last forever and 
furnish a revenue sufficient to support a goodly 
number of my legatees in an agreeable style 
at the Home. 

“Miss Sirene shall be the only judge as to 
what maids are the proper legatees intended 
by this will. Hoping that Miss Sirene and 
her successors to this trust may be possessed 
of prayerful hearts, and that they shall always 
allow conscience to be their ruler and safe¬ 
guard. 

“Done this 30th day of November, A. D. 
1840, in Red Forest, on the banks of the Sun¬ 
flower river, and near the spot where my 
estate is buried. 

“[Signed] Sweet Adin.” 

Am.ong the little articles of value that I 
found on Sweet Adin’s person it may be of 
some interest to mention the following: 

Fifty dollars in gold-coin, one dozen harp 
strings, one pocket knife, one comb, one lead 
pencil, one gold finger ring, a memento of the 
White Rose. It is plain to anyone that I did 
not learn to smile and smirk in a genteel way 
at some refined court, so when I read the will 
I broke out with a coarse guffaw of laughter, 
which made the old cabin shake to the very 


SIVEET ADIN 


83 


foundation. “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!’' I 
roared out, then I would succeed in control¬ 
ling my violent ridicule for a minute, but it 
had to come, “ha, ha, ha, ha!” till I was 
really ashamed of my own ill behavior, when 
in fact I was at a solemn wake. My servant 
was greatly alarmed at my vulgar, lunatic 
condition of mind, caused by the sudden laugh¬ 
ing fit that robbed me of all manner of dignity. 
A little while before I was a grave statue; now 
I appeared to be some big country lout, at a 
circus, laughing at the tricks of the witty 
clown and the big elephant. But I had some¬ 
thing to stir me within to this degree of sel¬ 
fishness. And now I shall explain my ques¬ 
tionable conduct upon.reading the will: 

Miss Romance Sirene was a model of 
beautiful womanhood in face, in form, in 
motion, and with good natural gifts cultivated 
to a high degree of perfection. 

Yet the sting of her sarcasm made me her 
enemy. 

One time, I had furtively and perhaps too 
often glanced at her charming face, and inno¬ 
cently thought I had made a good impression. 

But to my horror the lines quoted below 
appeared in the “Bumblebee:” 


84 


SIVEET ADIN 


“a hint.” 

“A starving lawyer I do meet 
When I chance down the street; 

He seems to gaup so much around 
His mind may not be very sound!” 

Of course such venom as the above would 
sour all the sweetness in paradise. 

So when I saw how my prospects to acquire 
wealth and overthrow my enemies had at 
once bounded upward to the skies, as it were, 
my ridiculous selfishness once more returned 
and got control of my better breeding; and 
losing every semblance of gravity, I almost 
yelled myself out of reason, as I fanned my 
hat through the air, pretending to strike at a 
member of the bee-family, crying: “boo, boo, 
boo! now, Mr. Bumblebee and Miss Sirene, I 
have you in my power!” 

Whereupon my servant, Cicero, seeing my 
sham battle with the imaginary bumblebee, 
ran into my room to reinforce me, and began 
to fan vacancy with a broom. He had been, 
after all his unfavorable notions of my con¬ 
duct, carried off his mental equilibrium by my 
extravagant and boyish actions. Of course it 
can be safely put down to my credit at this 
distance, that it was no flighty freak of imag- 


SIVEET A DIN 


85 


ination that caused me to forget I was at a 
wake and in the presence of the dead, an 
unbecoming place indeed to act a light, undig¬ 
nified part. True, if I should meet with such 
a fun-making adventure at this solemn time 
in life, I could treat it with the coolest indif¬ 
ference, or at the very most give it a hasty 
notice. However, 1 was young then and not 
accustomed to the extraordinary in anything, 
so that whatever happened to be a little over 
and beyond the common-place events of every 
day excited me to utter a big “ha, ha, ha, ha!” 
that would shake me all over and call into 
very active play the full capacity of my lungs 
and mouth. 

Finally I began to take a sober look at 
affairs. 

“Well, well,” I said to Cicero, “we have 
Miss Sirene and the ‘Bumblebee’ in our power, 
and what shall we do with them.? It is a 
great deal like the spider and fly in the old 
fable.” And it was so. For here I had 
located away off from town, in an obscure, 
lonely spot, in a log cabin, and in a very idle 
way awaited—for it would seem that all had 
been arranged by a hidden hand—for riches 
to walk into my cabin-door unawares, very 
much the same as a cunning old spider makes 


86 


SIVEET /lom 


his den in an obscure corner and allows 
patience and time to supply the fly. 

Of course, with a key in my pocket to 
half a million dollars I could at once set my¬ 
self up for a great personage. 

The church has its sweet allurements, which 
ever lead on to happiness in this life and ever¬ 
lasting joys in the next. The well-clothed 
and well-fed merchant is a living illustration, 
that displays the good things found in trade. 
The famous politician shows to the ambitious 
youth, that in the political arena he may win 
a crown of glory. With all these inviting 
fields before me, I still adhered faithfully to 
the law—and determined to carry out Sweet 
Adin’s plan of charity. 

However, this savory fruit that seemed to be 
so nearly ripe withered, as we shall see, and 
fell from the tree of hope. 

It must be remembered that the remains 
of Sweet Adin were reposing on my bed when 
I found the will that afterward caused such a 
flurry. Naturally, after one day of great excite¬ 
ment the first thing in order was to bury the 
dead, with as much honor and ceremony as 
Cicero and myself could control. Whilst I was 
making ready for the funeral, oh, how my 
breast began to leap with the emotions of 


SIVEET ADIN 


87 


ambition! I intended to give the estate my 
earnest attention—until at any rate I had it in 
good discipline—and honestly earn the ten- 
thousand dollar fee I expected for my services. 
So confident was I of the fulfillment of my 
hopes that I imagined myself flying right away 
from the poverty that caused me so much 
shame and shyness. A few brief hours before 
and I was almost dead of heart-rending grief; 
then I made myself ridiculous with buffoon 
laughter; now I was employed with rich 
schemes for the future which must yield fame. 

Well, let us attend the funeral of Sweet Adin. 
I selected a quiet spot for the grave about 
twenty paces in the rear of my cabin and in a 
dense thicket of brushwood. When the night 
was well advanced and somber darkness 
reigned over the world, my servant, Cicero, 
began to work on the grave. But he labored 
under much fear, for it oppressed his soul 
with many lonesome forebodings to go into 
the dense, dark thicket to dig a grave. I 
almost forgot to remark tnat I had the grave 
made in the thicket so as to ward off public 
clamor, which would surely be raised should 
the fresh grave be left open to the view of 
the public eye. After I had gone before the 
probate court and had also made proper 


88 


SIVEET ADIN 


arrangements with Miss Sirene and the “Bum¬ 
blebee,’’ and at the end of it all had told an 
unvarnished story to the world at large, and 
every remote circumstance that might put my 
neck in the halter was well seen to, then, and 
not till then, was I to give the dead philan¬ 
thropist a picnic funeral. When the proper 
time would roll around, I should, as the 
majesty of the case demanded, have the body 
of the great benefactor exhumed, and once 
more re-entombed in the lovely, picturesque 
Merrywood park at Growburgtown, with all 
the pomp and worldly glory that was due a 
great benefactor of the friendless maids. To 
be sure I expected to deliver the funeral ora¬ 
tion at the picnic funeral, on which occasion I 
should pay to the dead poet the praise he so 
richly deserved from our own generation and 
the generations to follow. So it was a good 
opportunity for me, look at it as I might. 
Possibly it would lead me into desperate 
straits. Anyhow it was sure to advertise 
me. Everbody should hear of Lilola Olio, of 
Sweet Adin and of the half million dollars in 
gold-coin buried in Red Forest, safe down 
among the sands of the Sunflower river. Had 
I the courage to play my part successfully, a 
famous, honest name, with a golden halo 


SIVEET ADIN 


89 


around it, awaited me among all the fair maids 
in Pinedale county. Should I fail, then dis¬ 
grace was to be my portion forever. Perhaps 
death on the gallows. 

Hark! Who can foretell the future.^ 

Cicero had not been long in the thicket at 
work on the grave, when he came running 
into the cabin, frightened out of all reason. 
A nocturnal terror had suddenly appeared in 
the graveyard in the person of an old tom cat, 
that had, no doubt, made his home in the 
quiet thicket many years before, and had not 
till now been molested in his feline worship. 
The tom-cat, as this ferocious animal is always 
sure to do, breathed forth an appalling roar. 
Thereupon Cicero at once dropped his digging 
tool and fled with the most fearful precipita¬ 
tion. Hearing his approach, I met him with 
laughter and light banter, telling him in a free 
jocular way, that the outcry was only the 
plaintive wailing of an innocent, harmless cat, 
that meant to offer him no harm whatever. 
So I went on at some length, dwelling on 
everything about the natural gifts of a tom 
cat as well as I could, and he seemed to pick 
up some courage. Then I reinforced my good 
impressions by pointing out what great vio¬ 
lence would be done to civilization a,t krge 


90 


SIVEET ADIN 


and especially to the immemorial usage of our 
forefathers, for everybody to go out of doors 
and leave the corpse alone in the frowning 
gloom of night with no one to watch by and 
drop a frail tear of sympathy. My soothing 
words seemed to fill their purpose well enough 
and Cicero returned to his labor on the grave, 
but soon came running back to me. There¬ 
fore I had to abandon the dead and go out 
into the thicket with my dark lantern in hand 
and thus cheer him up with my company. 
So it happened, whilst I was standing by, giv¬ 
ing the best aid I could with cheerful words, 
that soft, mellow strains of inspiring harp and 
song floated in through the thicket on the 
silent moonlit air of the night. Ah! It was 
Sweet Adin’s ghost addressing the placid 
moon; 

“the placid moon.” 

“Sweet, soft globe, emblem of repose, 

I see thee passing silver cloud. 

Now it hies and now it goes 

And leaves your face so bright and proud. 

“And, moon, is it true as I hear them say, 
That you are bravely helping us along, 

And always both in work and play 
You have honestly cheered us on.^ 


SIVEET ADW 


91 


Ivind moon, you have cheered me on my way 
In many a lonesome and solitary lane, 
Where evil men and lurking beasts of prey 
Would have left me with the slain. 

“Dear lovers say in their cunning smiles. 

That amorous Cupid makes you his haunt; 
And leads the fair maids with his wiles 
To the happy beginning of wedded want.” 

To say that I was again overwhelmed with 
the terrors this sudden supernatural surprise 
put on me, is simply to make a very mild 
statement of my unhappy condition. Had I 
been a statue cut from a solid granite rock, I 
could not possibly have stood as stiff and still 
as, in my spell-bound fright, I had to do 
whilst the ghost of Sweet Adin was thus sere¬ 
nading the placid moon. A few moments 
before, my heart was triumphantly beating in 
harmony and unison with some of the grandest 
schemes ever given to the mind of a mortal 
man, and now it fluttered with the excitement 
that always comes with a supposed visitor from 
another world, whether coming with a mission 
of love from heaven or bent on doing malice 
and hate of hell. When the sound of music 
and song floated on the still air to the ear of 
my grave-digger he instantly quit work, 


92 


SIVEET ADIh! 


dropped his tool, fell down on the bottom of the 
half-made grave, and with a quivering tenor of 
speech exclaimed:“Massa 01 io,dat’s his ghost!” 
Recovering from the spell that seemed to charm 
and hold me fast in my tracks, I put on the 
best appearance of courage I could in the face 
of appalling dangers, and whispered to Cicero 
to follow up a short distance in the rear 
with his tools in hand, and in the event 
that I should meet anyone of bad intentions, 
to hasten at once to my relief, upon hear¬ 
ing the faintest outcry. Making my way 
out of the thicket, I thoughtfully closed up 
in darkness the glaring bull’s eye of my lan¬ 
tern, thereby avoiding the attention of any 
idle midnight walker who might be passing 
along. 

“What can this music mean, anyhow.?” I 
thought. “Is it Tom Powers, the sheriff of 
Pinedale, I feared so much last night, who, 
entering the cabin and seeing Adin’s harp, has 
taken it up and begun to play and sing till I 
return, or is it some suspicious prowler, who, 
observing the glaring eye of my lantern in the 
thicket, has called in to find me in this unfa¬ 
vorable pickle.?” 

My mind of course was constantly on the 
unfortunate Sweet Adin, and fear of discovery 


SIVEET ADW 


93 


caused me to be wavering in my proceedings. 
However, I continued to approach my cabin, 
and upon reaching it I rested' one hand on the 
end of a projecting log and keeling down 
peered around the corner. And there sure 
enough on my porch, in the glimmering light 
of the waning moon, a scene met my eyes 
that removed all doubt and imagination from 
my mind. For, visible as the radiant sun, 
enlarged to thrice his earthly size, there sat 
the life-like heroic-appearing ghost of Sweet 
Adin talking and raving aloud. 

“Ah, let me see where I am,” exlaimed the 
spirit, “it seems to be still as the grave here¬ 
abouts. Can it be possible I am in the grave.^ 
I must see how it is and where I am lost. Oh 
yes, yes, I now remember well that this is the 
cabin discovered when overtaken by the hail¬ 
storm. I have been in a trance. O, fatal mis¬ 
hap ! These sad afflictions will cause me to 
be buried some day, and I shall not get back 
to the land of the living till my body is in the 
grave. Where is the glib and smooth-tongued 
lawyer.? Let me see. What is this he called 
his name. Now I have it: Lilola Olio. My 
dear Olio, can you come hither and clear up this 
mystery.? This^trance has finished me, out and 
out.” Resting a minute it began again: “Let 


94 


SIVEET ADIN 


me see if I have my gold-coin,” saying which 
it excitedly clutched at its pocket. “Gone, 
gone, gone!” it cried. “My knife is gone. 
Yea, and my ring too, the memento of the 
White Rofee has been foully filched away 
whilst in this woeful trance.” The ghost 
stood up in silence looking about as if ponder¬ 
ing on what to do, then with deep fervor 
exclaimed: “Oh, where is my will, my will, 
my will! Oh, my will is gone! I am forever 
doomed to be a wretched man! The villain 
who has stolen it has fled to Red Forest and 
will there unearth my hidden gold, as my 
solemn will contains the great secret and hope 
of my life. 

“O, dear friendless maids of North America, 
you shall be homeless and friendless still! I 
had consolingly thought to pass the declining 
years of my life in peace. I imagined I could 
sing old age away in fine harmonies, and leave 
after me, as a work of the affections of my 
heart, an asylum, a home, an award for the 
friendless. O, ambition, how false and fruit¬ 
less you have proved to be!” 

After this sublime speech the ghost very sor¬ 
rowfully sat down as if in despair, and then con¬ 
tinued from that posture to talk. “No more,” 
it sobbingly said, “shall I have one cheerful 


SIVEET A DIN 


95 


thought to strengthen my jaded limbs. Fa¬ 
tigue and toil will now lay heavy burdens on me 
at every step. Hitherto when I got tired and 
the journey of the day jaded me, when the sun 
beat down on me rays of heat unbearable, 
when aches racked me, when rain drenched 
me and cold hail stones pelted my back, and 
when the roaring northers chilled me, I thought 
of my Home for Friendless Maids. My last 
thought at night, when about to close my eyes 
and commend my soul to heaven, was my 
Home, my happy Home! When I opened my 
eyes from slumber I was cheerfully greeted 
with this pure, wholesome thought. 

“No more can I feel one ambitious thrill! 
Sad, cold and alone, let me roam the earth till I 
sink down to my grave! Then layAdin’s harp 
close by my side, quietly toss the cold clay 
over me, and before the mourners retire from 
the burial ground, let some young maid read 
this frail memorial in memory of me,’' At 
this the ghost recited with fine, eloquent 
speech: 

“this frail memorial.” 

“Sweet Adin, of great rural fame. 

Built our castle in the air; 

You will look, but look in vain. 


96 


SIVEET ADIN 


For, ah me, I see no castle there. 

“Sweet Adin was our mighty friend 
And built our mansion up so high. 

It was a mere phantom of the mind. 

As to it his romantic mind did apply. 

“He thought he had a good, happy home 
For the girls so very much in need. 

To us all forlorn and alone 

He was a valiant, faithful friend indeed. 

“His castle, though so mossy old, 

Was never made a thing so stout and real 
As to shut out torrid heat and icy cold, 

And fill our loving hearts’ appeal. 

“Sweet Adin lived on soaring plans. 

And useful, pure and most holy things. 

The work that saw no mortal, human hands, 
That lived on airy, limpid, fairy wings. 

“Sweet Adin lay down on Olio’s bed to rest. 
He lingered long in unconscious sweet 
repose; 

When he awoke it grieved his aged breast. 

His will was gone, his heart was froze.” 

While the ghost recited this memorial to the 
memory of Sweet Adin, it walked my porch 
to and fro and made the very logs in 
my cabin shake, such was the passion and 


SIVEET ADIN 


97 


pathos thrown into its supernatural theme. 

During this appalling tragedy, that was 
being enacted on my porch, I cowered and 
cowered, and shrank down, down, down, in 
my terror, till I felt so small that I thought 
the very earth should absorb me as an atom of 
clay, or that some voracious old spider might 
crawl forth from his deadly lair and drag me 
in. Trembling seized my bones, the cold, 
clammy sweat oozed through the pores and 
stood out in big drops on ray face or trickled 
down my back like so many icicles, and made 
me wish with the fervor of my overburdened 
soul that I was not a spectator of this lofty 
and inspiring scene. As for my poor and obe¬ 
dient Cicero, who was always afraid of a mere 
bugbear, he too lay stretched on the earth 
behind me, shivering and bemoaning his ill- 
luck most piteously. Till this time, I had 
counted on myself as bold even unto rashness, 
and willing to face any terrors that might 
bring my courage to a test. Now I could not 
bring it up to the mark at all. Courage was 
in fact no' longer a subject of my will, for, 
when about to chase away the mean feeling of 
terror which made me hide my face in dark¬ 
ness, like a coward, the humiliating thought 
that I had Sweet Adin’s stolen testament in 

^iveet A din —7 


98 


S^VEET ADIN 


my pocket, would again return, shoot through 
my heart and wholly prostrate and undo me 
for the courageous part I had to perform in 
this sublime tragedy. So there I lay, fearful, 
cold and helpless, waiting, waiting and pining, 
pining for the ghost to vanish into air and 
give me a chance to drag my almost lifeless 
body into my cabin where I might bolt the 
door, revive my spirits and defend my home 
and fireside. 

Sometimes I would hopefully think the 
ghost was about to go away, but instead it 
would continue to walk my porch, crying with 
deep passion: “O, where is my will! oh, where 
is my will! Where is this housekeeper.? oh, 
where is this housekeeper.?” Then it would 
move around a little and dolefully relapse 
into a monotonous tone of “My will, my will! 
Where now is my will.?” And so on, in vari¬ 
ous modes of tragic speech, the spirit showed 
its raving sorrow. At last it paused, as if for 
new inspiration, then wildly shouted, “I will 
off for Red Forest and defeat the thief if I 
can. Why have I not thought of that before.? 
At any rate he has not much the start of me, I 
hope. And, after all, he may have much 
difficulty in finding the spot. Besides, the 
shifting sands of the last year may have oblit- 


SIVEET /JOIN 


99 


erated the disturbance I made when there last. 
But I must go hence at once, and as fast as 
my frail limbs will carry me.” 

And away went the ghost for Red Forest, 
to my great relief, a-humming as it went: 

“Oh thief, your soul was surely mad. 

To steal my will and make me sad. 

Why did you not live at rest.? 

How can your conscience stand the test?- 

“You might have seen the dark abyss, 

Far below the plains of bliss; 

Had I seen you when you fell, 

I would have cried—the road to hell. 

You could have made a glorious end. 

But if I find you I do intend 
To strip you naked to the view, 

And show the world that it was you. 

“But to Red Forest you sped away 
And left me here in sad dismay; 

So there you will hunt and hunt around, 

I pray my gold cannot be found.” 

When the humming had grown faint and 
the sound of the footfalls of the retreating 
ghost faded away in the solemn stillness of 
night, I breathed one long, deep sigh of relief, 
as my heart returned to a natural pulsation. 
But my mind still wavered as to what I should 


100 


51VEET ADIN 


do. Indeed I shivered as if I had a very 
severe fit of ague and my limbs were so cold 
and lifeless that I could not move. For dur¬ 
ing this protracted reign of terror, my blood 
first ran hot then cold, and at last ceased to 
perform its part, thus leaving me powerless 
to move a finger or pronounce an audible 
prayer to save myself. Yet for all that, at 
the same time my conscience was serene and 
peaceful, for I had committed no crime what¬ 
ever, that could in time of danger rise up in 
my throat or rankle down in my bosom. No, 

I had not violated the most obscure compact 
of amity and confidence. Nevertheless the 
melancholy thought that t had Sweet Adin’s 
last will in my pocket, and that his spirit 
should as an omen come back to this world 
to haunt me and disturb my guiltless soul, was 
more than my courage could bear with tran¬ 
quil ease. Some one whose vaunting valor 
has never taken a part in such tragedy may 
say: “Olio, if of honest purpose, should have 
spoken out frankly and asked forgiveness 
from the ghost of the man on whose gold a 
few minutes before his avarice was preying.” 
Ah, none can speak on such occasions! Every 
brave man is willing to say that I performed 
my part fairly well. Finally, after rubbing 


SJVEET A DIN 


101 


my limbs and making many efforts, I suc¬ 
ceeded in dragging myself into my cabin. 
Once indoors, the most unsightly spirit that 
ever stalked abroad at midnight, could not 
arouse my fears or cause my heart to quail. 
I had grown reckless. I lay down on the 
floor before the open fire-place to warm my 
limbs, expecting to proceed with the funeral 
of the dead as soon as I could fairly recover 
from the chilly condition wherein the ghost 
left me. However, I was at rest but a short 
time till I began to inspect matters. Looking 
cautiously back to my bed where reposed the 
corpse, as I had innocently thought, I was 
much surprised to see my bed hollow and 
vacant-like. To say I was greatly surprised 
at the turn the funeral had taken on me, but 
faintly tells the state of my feelings. “O, 
great poet!” I cried with faltering tones, 
“O, shades of this melancholy night! O, 
visions of the mysterious spirit! O, incompre¬ 
hensible and infinite nature! O, wisdom, how 
may I attain your deep wa 3 ^s.?” It was won¬ 
derful. Yea, verily, awful! The dead had 
risen. Oh yes, the great riddle now began to 
solve itself. It was not the ghost of Sweet 
4din that had come back to bother my life 
fcc-^ount of any avaricious and ambitious 


102 


SIVEET ADIN 


designs I might have had on his last will and 
testament, whilst preparing his grave, but the 
genuine worldly flesh had returned to life. 
When I understood how grievously I was 
deceived, and that it was the visible body, 
which had risen from the dead to look after 
worldly things, I was badly taken down at my 
silly conduct. It was hard to think my heart 
should leap up to my mouth at the sight of 
one who a short time before pleased me so 
well with song and story. Sitting down for 
some time, I tranquilized my nerves and 
whiled away the heavy burden of my soul. 

Then I thought of my faithful Cicero, and 
went to the door to call him in with the good 
news I had. “Never mind the grave-digging,” 
I called out in a very cheerful mood, “the 
dead man has risen and fled from our control. 
Come in, come in at once and attend to our 
household affairs.” But no answer sounded 
back to my hearing. Fearing the worst had 
happened, I went out where he lay on the 
ground as cold as ice, and quite unconscious of 
everything that was transpiring. And not 
until I administered to him an invigorating 
remedy, of herbs and brandy, that I had kept 
in store for such unforeseen calamities as this, 
did he return to sensibility and recognize his 


SIVEET ADIN 


103 


forlorn condition. When he had sufficiently 
recovered, I succeeded with many gentle 
entreaties in making him believe my marvel¬ 
ous story, and return to the cabin with me. 
When indoors and under the reviving influ¬ 
ences of the brandy, he soon expressed him¬ 
self as feeling extremely satisfled and happy 
at the decision the dead traveler had come to. 
“Now massa,” said he, with a high degree of 
animation, when the brandy had begun to 
elevate his courage, “dat mus be his ghost dat 
wasoutwhar I was a d?ggin’ de grave. Dat 
was no tom cat, Massa Olio.” To be sure, I 
would not sleep on my bed that night, as 
Sweet Adin had lain on it when I thought him 
to be dead. I was fearful of unpleasant 
dreams. So I spread my bed on the floor, 
but haunting visions of the mysterious poet 
followed me even down to my humble couch, 
and there affrighted my lonesome, benighted 
soul. For his ghost-like image would ever 
approach my bed-side and with a threatening 
frown on its face and a tone of deep, hollow 
gravity, sing in my ear these humiliating 
rhymes, which seemed to be especially devoted 
“to Olio,” as in my dream he appeared to en¬ 
title his tormenting address: 


104 


SIVEET ADIN 


“to olio.” 

“Olio was a proud and ambitious man, 

And tried to climb away above. 

He had aims of grand and lofty plan, 

And voice like that of a cooing dove. 

“So he lovingly cooed and cooed every day, 
Till at last he got fair chance. 

And then he so brilliantly ran right away; 

Oh! how his fuming creditors dance! 

“Now see how cowardly he swiftly flies. 

As with the wind h? gallantly sails; 

For no affection or irksome earthly ties. 

Will he ever mend his shameful ways. 

“He will fly on and on, devil in pursuit. 

Till time ends his stealthy tread; 

For the devil will get a very fine recruit 
Just as soon as Olio, the gold thief, is dead.” 

Thus I was beset and my soul dogged and 
preyed on by every jibe and insult known to 
old Satan’s minions. It was no doubt in the 
most harrowing part of my dream that I called 
aloud with a voice of fear, as my servant told 
me: “O, Sweet Adin, oh. Sweet Adin!” 

During these fearful visions, I could see 
many old-time cronies, who would now and 
then come bravely forward to do good battle 


SJVEET ADIN 


105 


for me. But they were always badly beaten 
off and forced far down a bottomless abyss 
below, whilst my poor guiltless soul had to 
still remain a helpless and hopeless prisoner 
in the hands of an invincible legion of devils. 


CHAPTER JV 


Arising from my haunted bed before the 
dawn of the next day, I went out to scan the 
heavens above and find the positions of tl;ie 
stars, and from all the probabilities ahead, I 
clearly foresaw a pleasant season of fair weath¬ 
er, with everything in favor of a man who had in 
contemplation a long journey on foot. For 
once returned from hell, whither the devils 
had taken my soul a prisoner when the body 
was asleep, I was firmly resolved to set out 
alone in pursuit of Sweet Adin, even though I 
should surely sacrifice my own personal inter¬ 
ests and lose every case I had in court. 
Going into my cabin, when I had fairly studied 
the future prospects of the weather, 1 gave 
my servant his orders. 

“Cicero, get up at once,” I remarked with 
animation, “and proceed with your household 
affairs, for this shall be a busy day at our 
house. Provisions to do me many days must 
106 



SIVEET A DIN 


107 


be prepared, my clothes also put in order and 
snugly packed away in my carpet-bag, as I 
have with good purpose resolved to go on a 
journey to Red Forest and return Sweet Adin 
his last will, with an honest, open statement to 
him, how the sacred document fell into my 
unwilling hands.” But Cicero could not bear 
up under such lonesome prospects, being 
deeply moved when I apprised him of what I 
was about. “O, Massa Olio,” he whimpered, 
approaching me with tears in his eyes, “dis 
chile drop dead on dis flo’ if you leab me.” 
He seemed to be grievously put out, and soon 
began to weep bitterly. Seeing a little allow¬ 
ance had to be made for his pleasure, I said, 
in a consoling tone: “Well, well, my good man, 
never mind being alone. You may go out 
and invite your sweetheart, Susanna Moore, 
to your entertainment, and yet be able to feel 
quite happy in my absence.” This agreeable 
freedomx allowed, dried up his tears and put all 
his fears at rest. He smiled at the thought 
of having good company in my place. Indeed, 
from that on he tried to hurry me off before 
the time for my departure had come. The 
day was industriously spent in cooking pro¬ 
visions, brushing, airing and packing clothes, 
so they would be in good condition at the end 


108 


SIVEET ADIN 


of my long walk to Red Forest, for when 
tightly packed in my carpet-bag, they might 
get moldy and wormy, not getting any ven¬ 
tilation for many days whilst often beaten on 
by the boiling rays of the sun. The whole 
current of life had been so radically changed 
from its common every-day channel, that I 
could not well make out what the future had 
in store. 

So I was of the opinion that it would be 
better to take all my wearing apparel with 
me. Before Sweet Adin entered my cabin, I 
had had no deep concerns, and so, during the 
day, I would quit dusting clothes, lay the 
brush aside, and with sadness pictured on my 
countenance look away off down the road 
toward Growburgtown, when I painfully 
thought of my disturbed practice at the bar. 

When the sun set on the eve of that day 
my clothes and rations were neatly packed in 
small bulk, and I looked forward to the dawn 
of another day. Then I could adjust my 
packs on my staff, swing them over my shoulder 
and lead off, on a brisk double-quick, for the 
land of gold and Sweet Adin. My conscience 
was now, of course, at peace with mankind. 
Good resolutions made my heart happy and 
light as gossamer. No devil could come from 


SIVEET ^DIN 


109 


hell to murder my sleep, for I had resolved 
to return Sweet Adin’s will. To be sure, the 
poet would go straight to his buried gold, as I 
had taken all the money from his pocket, 
thinking I had closed his eyes in death, and 
had performed a simple Christian duty that as 
a man and neighbor I owed him and his lega¬ 
tees. Knowing he was too proud and rich to 
beg for alms or ask a bite of bread, I proposed 
to get an early breakfast, then push on fast as 
my strength would allow, and making good 
time by walking sixteen hours a day I had 
bright hopes of overtaking him before he 
reached Red Forest. The night was so serene 
and quiet everywhere about the cabin that I 
was soon at rest. No peace-disturbing fiends 
could come out of hell to goad me for Sweet 
Adin’s will. However I had been asleep but 
a few moments when I was affectionately 
approached by an angel of divine mercy. A 
snowy-white form bent over me. . The face 
shone in a splendor of love, of radiance, of 
divine beauty, which had never till now been 
seen by mortal eyes. 

In tones of heavenly inspired purity the 
angel thus addressed me, as she gracefully 
bent over my bed: 

“My dear Olio, I will lead you to realms above, 


110 


SIVEET ^DIN 


Now that is called an angel of beauty divine. 
It rises at will on the wings of love; 

Like a star in heaven it will ever shine. 

“Olio, an unrepentent sinner, always fights 
The foreboding demons that hover around; 
His days are of grief—more so his nights, 

As he frantically seeks what cannot be found. 

“Olio, see how happy is the sleep of the pure. 
For you see the heaven-born angels in your 
dreams. 

These angels of light and mercy are constantly 
true. 

And with the glory of heaven cast out the 
fiends.” 

Just before the peep of day I thought the 
pure angel of mercy had returned from heaven 
to add new splendors to the happy visions of 
the night. Yet withal I could not see the 
celestial face of inspiring beauty. Silently 
and consolingly, sweet music floated out on 
the quiet star-lit air of the night. The com¬ 
panion of the voice seemed to be Adin’s harp. 
But how could this be so.? for the poet should 
be far away on the road to Red Forest. I 
now began to doubt. “Are my senses addled,” 
I thought, “or can it be another heavenly 
vision.?” Then I broke loose from the sounds 


SIVEET A DIN 


111 


which entranced me, and began to roll and 
toss about nervously in my bed, at last con¬ 
vincing myself that I was wide awake, with 
open eyes, and things were really what they 
seemed to be. Ah, it was Sweet Adin address¬ 
ing the planet Venus, the queen of the skies, 
the goddess of beauty, the morning star: 

“the morning star.’' 

“Bright Venus, the morning star, 

Sweet harbinger of coming day. 

Is it distant and very far 
To your clear ethereal way.? 

“You were the star of beauty long, long ago, 
"When beauty was defied in your name. 

But cruel war has frowned down on us so, 
That statues are given to vulgar men. 

“Pure was the artless love of the olden time, 
When fair maids courted your smiles afar; 
Oh, how I wish love could now be the shrine. 
And images of beauty not given boors of war. 

“For your reign is so grand, spiritual and 
silent. 

It makes me oftentimes wonder if you have 
storms; 

And the ancient goddess of love’s enchant¬ 
ment, 


113 


SIVEET AOm 


That your beauty in far distant ages formed. 

“Or if in lightning bolt or fearful thunder roar 
There is mighty man or timid beast to fear; 
Or if you have giant oaks and forest hoar, 

And do hopeful men like us shelter there. 

“Move on in your great homeward, heavenly 
sea, 

Across the deep, broad blue milky skies. 
When I leave this earthly home I shall see 
The power alone that makes these loving 
ties.” 

When Sweet Adin had finished his inspired 
address to the morning star, he breathed a 
sigh of relief, that plainly indicated how his 
poetical heart was saddened about his last 
will. “Oh, hi, hi, hi, hum!” he sobbed: “where 
now is Lilola Olio, the smooth, glib and per¬ 
suasive lawyer, who treated me with so much 
warmth and hospitality, when I was here in 
the cabin during the storm.? The cabin seems 
to be abandoned and entirely desolate within.” 
At this period in his soliloquy, he gently knocked 
on the door. “Ah,” he mournfully whimpered 
in a weeping tone, “nothing presages any 
good for me, and I am truly hopeless, hopeless, 
hopeless! I very much fear he has silently 
slipped off to Red Forest. But if I can only 


SIVEET ADIN 


113 


find him I shall make inquiries about my will. 
He is a lawyer, and may restore it upon the 
payment of a liberal fee. Though I was too 
hasty, I must honestly admit, and carried out 
of the pale of cool reason—being so excited 
over my irreparable loss. Oh, how I must 
have carried on, when recovered from the 
trance! But I am once more on my good be¬ 
havior. Now, if I can but find Olio it will be¬ 
come me to address him with pleasant words, 
ask to be forgiven, obtain whatever goodness is 
in his heart, and thus, by many winning ways, 
I may yet be able to find my will, though 
it is too true the secret of the buried 
gold is cast abroad in the general news of the 
world.” When I had heard all this long audi¬ 
ble soliloquy it was evident to me that Sweet 
Adin was on my porch, and I could happily 
unload the burden of my oppressed soul with¬ 
out going away off on a very tiresome journey 
to Red Forest. So I sat bolt upright in my 
bed, with eyes swimming in tears of a glorious 
peace and satisfaction, anxiously awaiting for 
him to repeat his knock on my door, so I 
could boldly bound forward, throw back the 
bolt and embrace him in arms of filial love. 
Then the tears of joy began to flow freely 
from my eyes and shower down on my bed, 

Sweet Adin —8 


114 


SIVEET ADIN 


yielding my sorrowful heart infinite relief. 
Happy moments of my life! I had now learned 
from Sweet Adin’s soliloquy that he was 
doubtful of my guilt, and did not rate me to 
be an incorrigible rogue. I could no longer 
restrain my anxiety, and throwing the bed¬ 
clothes aside I bounded forward, undressed 
and dishevelled as I was, threw back the bolt, 
opened the door, leaped out on the porch and 
seized the poet in my arms. “O, Sweet Adin, 
oh. Sweet Adin!” I shouted, despite my tears, 
and the husky, suffocating lump in my throat, 
“Your will is safe!—your will is safe! Here 
it is—here it is!” He reached out his hand 
and took his will. In my wild and uncontrol¬ 
lable delight I raised him in my arms and car¬ 
ried him right into my house, as though he 
were a babe of tender years. There I set him 
down softly in my easy-chair and ran to one 
of my garments, and reaching down in the 
pocket, I exclaimed: “Here, Sweet Adin, is 
your memorial ring of the White Rose, here 
is your knife, here are your harp-strings and 
your comb, and even your lead pencil;.and 
last and best of all, here is your precious 
friend, the fifty dollars in gold-coin. And now, 
my beloved idol and theme of life, let me,” 
said I, my voice getting clearer as the tears 


SIVEET y4DIN 


115 


and suffocation somewhat subsided, “inquire 
what kind messenger of God sent 3^ou back to 
my relief? Was it the pure and inspired 
angel of mercy, that came down from heaven 
last night to console me in my sleep?” Sweet 
Adin was motionless and speechless, for my 
fearful plunge out into the darkness to greet 
his return, the sudden and unexpected resto¬ 
ration of every item of his property, the deep 
impression the speech in restoring the goods 
made on him, the filial embrace, all taken 
together was more than his generous nature 
could bear. He could do naught but fix a 
steady look on me, as if doubting the reality 
of what his eyes told him. Once he moved 
his lips to speak, but his voice could not 
respond to his mighty will. His only relief 
for the fullness of his benevolent heart was to 
slowly stroke his long gray beard and draw 
long sighs, as he gently shook his head to 
emphasize feelings that were too deep for 
utterance and beyond the control of language. 
He really seemed to be reviewing the seventy 
years of life he had so faithfully passed in 
harmony with virtue and heaven. During 
this pathetic scene I uttered no word to mar 
the sublime emotions of my heart. 

At last the poet took his harp in his hands 
and addressed me in this way: 


116 


SIVEET ADIN 


“to the good man.” 

“The good man will live in peace; 

Troubles cannot approach. 

He is a gem of his race; 

On him evil cannot encroach. 

“He climbs the narrow stairs 
That lead to the upper story; 

So honest in all his affairs, 

He wreathes a cBown of glory. 

“He wreathes around his brow 
A smooth and honest look. 

His virtue may fall, somehow. 

But he soon returns all he took.” 

“Now,” said Sweet Adin, “I feel able to 
give a feeble voice to my mind. When I left 
your cabin I was, to say the truth, very much 
alarmed about the secret of Red Forest, for I 
had long ago determined to carry that with 
me till the end of my life, unknown even to 
my best friend. However, as I traveled along 
the road, my mind cleared off somewhat, and 
hope was revived within my breast. So I 
turned about and hastened back hither as 
fast as my limbs would allow; and now I have 
the pleasure to be again in your presence, my 
dear Lilola Olio.” 

“Indeed you did take a sensible view of 


SIVEET ADIN 


117 


your misfortune,” I remarked, with a big smile 
of satisfaction wreathed on my face, “and I 
will explain all and make the dark clear. I 
thought you were dead and beyond the pale of 
human affairs, so I proceeded in the most 
discreet way that I could think of to dispose 
of your remains. I am nobody but Lilola 
Olio, the poor young lawyer, and was, on 
account of my poverty and social condition, 
compelled to keep the dark circumstance of 
your accidental death a secret from my neigh¬ 
bors. Otherwise, the having a dead man in 
my cabin should cause my arrest and impris¬ 
onment. So that the final end of the grand 
tragedy might one of these fair spring days 
close by an immense gathering of the people 
of Pinedale county, at Growburgtown, to see 
your poor humble friend and benefactor, 
Lilola Olio, suspended by the bare neck 
between heaven and earth till dead. For you 
see, I had it not in my power to give a full 
satisfactory account of the sudden death in my 
cabin. The suspicious, who always desire 
excitement, would then rise up and cry out to 
condemn me. Having this foresight of dan¬ 
ger, I laid your corpse on my bed, covered it 
over from idle gaze, and was digging your 
grave, when I heard, as my affrighted soul 


118 


SIVEET ADIN 


then imagined, your ghost performing on my 
porch. I courageously came to yonder corner 
of my cabin and there witnessed the sublime 
agitation going on. But I was speechless, 
my tongue was stiff and dumb, and, in that 
gloomy dread, I could not sum up courage to 
speak to your immortal counterpart. No, I 
did not hurry off for the coroner post-haste, as 
others might have done. Had I so acted you 
should surely be buried down deep in the cold, 
cold earth, and dead indeed, so far as I could 
ever know. 

“As it is, no one, but you and I, knows the 
secret of Red Forest; and here,” said I, as I 
pounded my breast in emphasis with my 
clinched fist, “will that gold-secret remain.” 

“O, my dear and beloved Olio,” exclaimed 
Sweet Adin, “you have no doubt saved me 
from the horrors of a living grave. How can 
I properly recompense you for this humane 
deed.? Ah well, you shall be my attorney dur¬ 
ing the remainder of my life, and I will with 
all my heart sing praises of you forever. O, 
come to my pretty bower! oh, come to my 
pretty bower. Olio.” And he then proceeded 
to address me in such a refined, charming 
manner as to make me feel very happy with 
his divine muscial invitation to visit his pretty 
bower-home: 


SfVEET ADIN 


119 


“on COME TO MY PRETTY BOWER.” 

“Olio, my home is in a pretty bower, 

Far in among the green waving trees; 
There you may loiter hour after hour 
And do just as you please. 

“My bower is so nice, cool and shady, 

And I have around so many curious things, 
It would please a very fastidious lady 
To see my pretty birds flit their wings. 

“Come to my bower, come right along now, 
And leave thie poor old cabin so drear. 

I see nothing here at all, I do verily avow. 
Nothing about to elevate or to cheer. 

“Have I a cow, did you say, to give me milk.^ 
No, not exactly; but I have a fine goat. 

Not as big as a cow, but as smooth as silk, 
For she wears a very long, glossy gray coat. 

“Have I a dog at all, did you say, or how 
many? 

I have dogs, now let me see, seven; 

How can it be they have increased any— 
Now I think, I believe there are eleven. 

“Have I cats, to disturb my slumber? 

Yes I have cats. Kit, Tom and Puss, 

And cats in the forest without number. 

That in midnight darkness make a muss. 


I 


120 


SIVEET ADIN 


“Birds, yes birds I have too, of every plume. 
When I play on my harp to please. 

The birds are so much dehghted with the tune 
They fly down to me from shady ease. 

“I have deer, to be sure, so very nimble and 
lithe. 

You would feel pleased to see them bound; 

They will come into my bower and look so 
wise. 

Oh, such sweet creatures you never found. 

“Olio, my bower is made of entwined trees; 

I have bent their limbs down and all around. 

There is ever-unfading freshness in the leaves. 
And pure, pleasing harmony in every sound. 

“The stars above shine through the canopy of 
leaves. 

And night does not rob beauty of her charm. 

No midnight burglars or low sneaking thieves 
Have ever disturbed my peace or given me 
alarm. 

“Olio, the journey will not be toilsome at all; 
We will sit down in the shade as we jog 
along: 

Your expenses will be nothing and mine small. 
And when you feel lonely we will have a 
song. 


SIVEET ADIN 


121 


“Olio, I am now old, and as my end draws on 
near, 

How happy I will be when we are sitting in 
the shade; 

I can look down without dread or mortal fear 
Into the grave where you will see me 
sweetly laid. 

“And when death has broken and sundered 
our earthly ties 

Do not speak of me as a grand or great man; 
that would be vain. 

Just say, ‘he was a man who loved the beau¬ 
ties of earth and skies. 

And that is all I have to say of Sweet Adin 
and his fame. ’’’ 


f 


CHAPTER V 


When Sweet Adin had finished his divine 
invitation to visit his bower-home, we both 
remained, for some time, very silent in our 
happy meditations, whilst my own bosom was 
swollen with grand emotions. In truth, I 
was completely under the powerful enchant¬ 
ment of the poet and harp. He could, after 
this entertainment, lead whithersoever in the 
world he might choose to go, and I would 
obediently follow right along as a part of his 
own person. Yet, lawyer-like, I could not 
allow my pleasant feelings to overwhelm me 
all at once, but should try to get all the favor¬ 
able conditions that were anywhere within 
reach, before engaging my legal services to 
him as counselor, in general charge of his 
gold-coin. For, up to the very hour that the 
storm drove Sweet Adin to my fireside, I had, 
as humble as I was, secretly harbored some 
jremote hope of political perferment in Pine- 
123 



ft 


SkVEET ADIN 123 

dale county, and it could be clearly foreseen 
that were I to be the trustee and legal manager 
of this big heap of gold, I should forever bid 
farewell to all the good impressions I had ever 
made in Growburgtown and Pinedale county. 
Now, there I was, almost spell-bound under 
the influence of the potent calculations I was 
making for the future, whilst Sweet Adin 
occasionally thumbed a piece of musical con¬ 
solation on his harp. 

At last the solemn silence was broken. 
Then our minds came down to an ordinary 
plain, and we addressed each other as follows, 
as we critically examined the facts in the 
case: 

Olio—“I will now accept the office of 
attorney in general for your estate; but will 
it not be well, before we pledge ourselves, to 
talk the- matter over in a fraternal way, and 
outline the policy I shall hereafter pursue in 
the premises.?” 

Adin—“As to that I will cheerfully give you 
unlimited and unrestricted jurisdiction in 
everything that concerns my estate.” 

Olio—“You mean, of course, in settling mat¬ 
ters of dispute in courts and writing contracts 
which shall properly protect the sacred gold 
of Red Forest.” 


124 


SIVEET ADIN 


Adin—“Just so, Mr. Olio.” 

Olio—“My mind, however, takes a broader 
view, perhaps than you are willing to allow.” 

Adin—“Then, my dear Olio, speak out 
frankly whatever you have to say; it may be 
for my good, and cannot cause me the least 
embarrassment. We should try to be of the 
same mind.” 

Olio—“O, good and happy Sweet Adin! I 
most sincerely thank you for this precious 
boon. But it is not an easy matter to 
approach a theme so tender. Your mind was 
no doubt free from the thralldom of love 
when you made your last will and testament, 
appointing Miss Romance Sirene to be your 
sole trustee. Does 3^our fair executrix know 
anything of this trust and fortune, which 
awaits her whenever your lamentable demise 
shall happen.?” 

Adin—“Nothing whatever.” 

Here my mental embarrassment choked off 
my utterance, upon hearing this important 
point in the case revealed, and I was left dumb, 
with my brain in a giddy whirl. I thought I 
heard the wild and incoherent ejaculations of 
Miss Sirene shooting like thunderbolts through 
the air. I was, it appears, overjoyed, and on 
the very verge of a sinking, fainting fit. 


SH^EET ADIhJ 


125 


When my bewilderment had passed away, 
and my mind cleared off, I nervously renewed 
my argument. For my conversational tone at 
this point took on a more majestic style, as if 
I were addressing some tribunal of great offi¬ 
cial power. 

Olio—“I was about to make some remarks 
on material points in your last will and testa¬ 
ment, but oh, I find it most difficult to com¬ 
ment on a matter which lies so near your soul, 
as my embarrassment, that you have wit¬ 
nessed, plainly tells you.” 

Adin—“My darling Olio, this tenderness 
touches the inmost recesses of my heart. 
Where can such regard for the feelings and 
property of others be found.^ Rarely, rarely, 
I say, can a hair-splitting honesty be met with 
among the best of men. Every word that 
you speak serves to rivet more securely the 
bonds of the friendship which binds us together. 
Out with what you may, it is all full of good 
cheer and future bliss.” 

Olio—“This kind speech of yours makes me 
feel happy as an angel in heaven, and at home 
with every ligament that reaches out from 
your heart to the sacred treasure of Red 
Forest. Let no corrupt vandal of the law 
ever attempt to change the current of charity 


126 


SIVEET ADIN 


which flows from the fountain of your heaven- 
born benevolence. And now allow me to 
inquire, my dear Adin, if 5^ou can ever con¬ 
sent to break your will.^’’ 

Adin—“Break my will, Olio! oh—” 

Olio—“Stop now, right here, great and good 
man. I see I did not put the question in prop¬ 
er legal form. I meant, can you be fairly 
induced to modify or change your will with¬ 
out missing the great moral object of your 
present bequest.?” 

Adin—“Your advice is precious and full of 
kind, cheerful words, and means me no harm, 
I am sure. I will hear you. Proceed, Olio.” 

Olio—“Well here is about what your will 
contains: 

“‘Shall cause to be built or purchase a build¬ 
ing suitable for a Home for Friendless 
Maids, and then, with all the foresight possi¬ 
ble, invest the residue of my estate on such a 
sound basis that it shall make a powerful 
endowment fund that shall last forever, and 
furnish a revenue sufficient to support a goodly 
number of my young legatees in an agreeable 
style at the Home. Miss Romance Sirene 
shall also be the judge as to which maids are 
to be considered chaste and the proper leg¬ 
atees intended by my will.” 


SIVEET ^DIN 


127 


“Yes, a Home under the control of Miss 
Romance Sirene is a benevolent and saintly 
purpose, sure enough, and one that, on first ac¬ 
quaintance, seems wise; but where are the 
safeguards that must everywhere stand about 
like bold sentinels to challenge enemies and 
ever keep undefiled the modesty and chastity 
of the friendless young maids of North Ameri¬ 
ca?” 

Adin—“Ah, you regard with some disfavor, 
the broad, liberal tone of my will?” 

Olio—“Just so; but my mind does not stop 
at the general terms of your will. I have an 
honest plan of my own that I will submit, 
with your permission.” 

Adin—“Then proceed, Olio. Every word 
you now utter is composing to my mind. I 
am even anxious to hear any new plans that 
you have to submit. We must see to it that 
the sacred treasures of Red Forest shall not 
be given over to reckless spendthrifts who 
will make the world worse instead of better. 
It is the weak I desire to protect, and not the 
strong and lusty.” 

Olio—“Then never concentrate your lega¬ 
tees, the friendless pretty maids of North Amer¬ 
ica, in one place of abode. Give them a wide 
extent of territory for their habitation, for in 
union there is strength.” 


128 


SIVEET A DIN 


Adin—“O, ingenious counselor, you are 
marvelous in wisdom and eloquent in speech!” 

Olio—“The building of a suitable Home 
will cost considerable money, and the superin¬ 
tending of it more.” 

Adin—“Great and profound lawyer!” 

Olio—“A Pension Bureau shall be a much 
more suitable provision for the legatees of your 
admirable bequest, and can better answer the 
purpose of your charitable aims.” 

Adin—“O, wondrous guide and index to 
truth and learning, your heaVen-inspired 
thoughts transport me to infinite joys.” 

Olio—“Let each legatee draw an annual 
gratuity according to her disability.” 

Adin—“Wise man! wise man!” 

Olio—“Thus it is plain, the bulk of the 
great gift of your affections cannot be frittered 
away on the strong and able-bodied.” 

Adin—“True, man—I say true, man!” 

Olio—“Outbuildings must necessarily be 
erected, to accommodate the superintendents 
and assistants.” 

Adin—“I have without doubt misunder¬ 
stood myself out and out.” 

Olio—“Yes, I can imagine I see laborers 
cultivating arbors and flower-gardens, and 
beautifying walks, by-ways and promenades.” 


SIVEET A DIN 


129 


Adin—“Wise and far-seeing counselor!” 

Olio—“Yea, and that is not the end of it 
all. All the misery and distress is yet to 
follow.” 

Adin—“Hear him speak!” 

Olio—“The State will not give the Home the 
military support it must have, and must get 
from some source or other.” 

Adin—“Military support, Olio.? I thought 
my legatees would never fly to arms. This 
touches me deeply!” 

Olio—“You are benevolent enough and 
truly loving, but not military, I now see 
clearly!” 

Adin—“But, learned Olio, modesty and 
youth will ever dampen their ardor for arms.” 

Olio—“Never allow the age of your lega¬ 
tees to mislead you, good man.” 

Adin—“Very well and truthfully said, no 
doubt!” 

Olio—“But as I before said, and now assert 
with the full strength of my soul entwined 
about the sacred treasures of Red Forest: In 
union there is strength.” 

Adin—“No doubt of it. Olio!” 

Olio—“Such a vast army of loving, young 
maids as shall be lodged at your Home, can¬ 
not, in the nature of things, and will not, 

Sweet Adin —p 


130 


SIVEET ADIN 


tamely submit, according to the most charita¬ 
ble calculations of Philanthropists and States¬ 
men, to the control of a mere superintendent 
and handful of deputies.” 

Adin—“Well, well—a military company—I 
had not set that down in the calendar of 
future operations.” 

Olio—“But I must set it down.” 

Adin—“O dear me! must this be so.^”’ 

Olio—“Yes, it must be so, and I have put it 
down as the dangerous part in this mighty 
cause. I am now pleading before this august 
tribunal.” 

Adin—“Fair and discreet Olio!” 
liOlio—“ Whether my argument suits others 
or not is surely not a matter for an honest 
lawyer to worry over. But this I do know: 
I shall remain faithful to my client though I 
should sacrifice my dearest earthly projects. 
I shall not give up the consolation that is the 
award and comfort of the honest lawyer’s 
soul for any pitiable stipend the paymaster of 
earth can give.” 

Adin—“Most gifted, sublime and honest 
Olio, you shall be the light of the world, some 
day!” 

Olio—“And behold this military company!” 

Adin—“An independent military company 


SIVEET ADIN 


131 


living on the rich treasures now buried in Red 
Forest! Has it come to this pass?” 

Olio—“Yes, an independent military com¬ 
pany shall necessarily be organized to do 
police duty at the Home of your legatees.” 

Adin—“You greatly surprise me, Olio!” 

Olio—“And behold this company. I can 
see its gallant parades and evolutions around 
Adin’s Home for the Friendless Young Maids 
of North America.” 

Adin—“Indeed it will be expensive!” 

Olio—“And the sacred treasures of Red 
Forest will be giving rank and high social 
position to military heroes.” 

Adin—“I see, I see!” 

Olio—“And I can see dashing young soldiers 
and uniformed colonels with fine feathers and 
brilliant cockades.” 

Adin—“O dearest Olio, you rouse my 
youthful fires!” 

Olio—“The further I examine the case the 
more numerous the evils appear.” 

Adin—“Trusty Olio, your reasons seem 
good. You area great lawyer, no mistake!” 

Now seeing that I had made a good impres¬ 
sion with my arguments, my previous embar¬ 
rassment left me, so I became more magnifi¬ 
cent in my address and clearer and louder in 
my utterance. 


132 


SIVEET ^DIN 


Olio—“Now, my dearest and best friend and 
client, I can see marplots and bickerings, 
heart-aches and heart-breakers. I can see 
maidens screaming and running away from 
the proffered kiss of a soldier. I can see 
soldiers deserting their wives and the heroic 
services of their country. I can see the maid¬ 
ens suing the soldiers for blighted affections 
and broken marriage vows, and forsaken wives 
suing for divorce.” 

Adin—“Oh, no end to trouble!” 

Olio—“Yes, I think I see wives suing Sweet 
Adin’s Home and getting damages on account 
of the alienated affections of husbands.” 

Adin—“Oh such expense as this would 
entail!” 

Olio—“All the evils that I have mentioned, 
and many more too, must certainly come to 
pass when your present testament shall be 
carried into operation under the supervision 
of Miss Romance Sirene.” 

Adin—“What a sad mistake I have made! 
The whole of my estate might go to the sup¬ 
port of military autocrats, but for your timely 
and wise advice! We must remedy it, my 
darling Olio.” 

Olio—“Nay, nay, you have made no mistake 
at all, for that is just what I am trying to 


SIVEET A DIN 


133 


prevent. The chasm is open, it is true, but 
no one has fallen to the dark abyss below.” 

Adin—“Then let me make a new will and 
entirely abrogate the old one!” 

Olio—“A new will is the thing you most 
need. This one giving Romance Sirene the 
reins of power shall make my legal duties too 
onerous. Perhaps so much so, that I must 
call to my assistance the ablest counselors in 
the land.” 

Adin—“Oh, such a wise man!” 

Olio—“Sweet Adin’s Home will be stormed 
by a multitude of lawsuits.” 

Adin—“Oh, such a wreck!” 

Olio—“The assaulted law shall defiantly 
hurl its darts of authority in behalf of peace 
and virtue outraged by your Home.” 

Adin—“There will be a cruel Amazonian 
war!” 

Olio—“Yes a bloody civil war against Sweet 
Adin’s Home for Friendless Maids.” 

Adin—“Many of my legatees would no doubt 
lose their lives!” 

Olio—“Yea, it is hard to say who should 
survive or who should perish.” 

Adin—“Oh what is this!” 

Olio—“I may myself remain faithful to the 
duties you outline for me, or I may leave the 


134 


SJVEET ADIN 


< 4 uiet shades of peace and so be carried into 
the whirling vortex of war.” 

Adin—“And perish!” 

Olio—“Perhaps I may be too rash and lead 
on in the thickest of the fray, when I shall 
see the sacred gold of Red Forest given over 
to pride, luxury and lust.” 

Adin—“A brave and valiant soldier you will 
be, I have no doubt!” 

Olio—“Ah, but my genius for war may not 
always keep pace with my courage!” 

Adin—“Still a great genius you are, surely!” 

Olio—“But it is not moral or legal genius 
that can crown my brow with military renown. 
I may be sent off on a midnight raid on 
account of some illusive story, whilst the 
enemy, like a cunning fox, in his den is sleep¬ 
ing, or he may be laughing at my ridiculous 
strategy; and when I pitch my tent for a rest¬ 
ing spell, he may slip around in my rear, steal 
my provisions, and thus put a hungry famine 
on me that can in a long siege conquer my 
martial spirit.” 

Adin—“I will make a new testament at 
once, my dearest friend Olio. You must not 
worry your mind any more about it.” 

Olio—“A new will, and your fame shall 
reach the remotest ends of the earth. Your 


SIVEET ADIN 


135 


benevolence and your name shall be the rich 
theme of orators, of romancers, of actors and 
of benefactors, when Lilola Olio, your plain 
common attorney, and the generation of men 
he belongs to, shall be forgotten and blotted 
out forever.” 

Adin—“Then get a pen, ink and paper and 
write a new will. You shall write it now, my 
darling Olio, you shall write it now, and you 
shall be my attorney during life, and my 
executor and trustee after death.” 

Olio—“Be cool and deliberate. Let the 
matter rest for one whole day. Take the 
entire subject-matter under advisement and 
study separately each point that I have made. 
Do not precipitate hasty action. This is an 
awful undertaking to contemplate. Allow 
yourself to become easy in mind, and free all 
around from the influence and excitement that 
my argument has wrought on you. For a 
testator’s mind should be well made up.” 


CHAPTER VI 


Here I had honestly won my first case of 
importance; and it was the first trial, too, that 
fairly tested my ability for legal affairs, as 
well as the original style of clothing my 
thoughts in plain, common-sense word-pict¬ 
ures, without making dull quotations from the 
old writings of men, who were, in the man¬ 
agement of a legal dispute, brighter than my¬ 
self. 

This case was a very prolific one, I can 
afford to say, with an animated degree of per¬ 
sonal pride, and led me on to fortune, Tame 
and glory. It has been the open opinion of 
my friends and enemies alike that had I been 
content to remain at the Growburgtown bar 
I could have achieved political and legal pop¬ 
ularity with the people. But such, it seems, 
was not my allotment in the world. My 
success in the great will-case soon yielded the 
opportunity for me to make out and store 
136 



SIVEET ADIN 


137 


away money with but a moderate use of let¬ 
ters, or application to books of knowledge, or 
for that matter, even the use of my voice, 
which, in my youth, was said to be very 
agreeable to the ear. So that, from a lean 
man who, at the age of twenty-five years, 
weighed one-hundred and thirty pounds, I at 
this time weigh two-hundred. For I have 
had no occasion whatever to fret and run 
about from place to place, hunting an offer of 
employment, as I made my fortune at once in 
the will-case, by getting sole control of a big 
pile of gold. My eyes now, at sixty years, are 
as good as at twenty-five. I never read by a 
fire light, as I had to do in old log-cabin days. 
And I have faithfully attended to my duties 
as head of the Bureau. 

During one whole day, after my great effort 
in the immortal will-case, I did not allow even 
the testator. Sweet Adin himself, to talk to 
me of his old, last will, that he was about to 
supplant by making a new one instead. 

Whenever he offered to speak about some 
of the meritorious provisions in his old will, 
which seemed to be still lingering about his 
heart, or at least to flit now and then through 
his mind, I was always prepared to put him off 
with a gentle shake of the head and a modest 


138 


SIVEET ADIN 


gesture of the hand, saying, with mildness of 
tone: “Think over it—think over it till the 
morrow, my dear Adin.” 

We spent the day in a very light, jovial 
way, making long yarns about ourselves, and 
we both told jokes that provoked much hearty 
merriment. The poet rehearsed amusing 
scenes from the actions of previous life that 
at the same time gave me much good and 
wholesome advice, for there was sound moral 
philosophy in every tale he told. Sometimes, 
it is true, we pleasantly talked over mighty 
business plans, that were to make the happi¬ 
ness of the young maids complete, but not a 
word about the splendor of my argument on 
the abrogation of the old will. However, 
when the morrow dawned we again settled 
down to actual business. Below is a copy of 
the new will that I wrote, which abrogated 
Sweet Adin’s old one: 

“sweet adin’s new will.” 

“I, Sweet Adin, being at peace with all 
mankind and having my soul resigned to the 
will of God, do make this written memoran¬ 
dum the sole evidence of my last will and tes¬ 
tament, without fear or favor, and also with¬ 
out being embarrassed by undue family, relig¬ 
ious, political or financial influences. 


SJVEET ADIN 


139 


“First—Finding that I must repose confi¬ 
dence in one of my fellowmen, I do appoint 
Lilola Olio to be my executor and trustee. 

“The duties of Lilola Olio, I align as fol¬ 
lows herein: After my death, to take charge 
of my body, and bury it without public ado, 
near by the great White Rose bush in my 
flower garden, at Glenadin. And I declare 
this material, and heartily desire that my 
mortal remains shall be laid away in the 
grave with as much Christian ceremony as 
possible. 

“Second—Pay Glencoe Fearnot, my zoolo¬ 
gist, wild-animal tamer and keeper of my 
bower and cave, ten-thousand dollars in gold- 
coin; also turn over to him for his own use 
forever all the birds and animals that I may 
own at the time of my demise. 

“Furthermore, as a memento of my love, 
and that he may hold me in the deep love of 
his heart, I earnestly desire that he shall have 
my harp, known as Adin’s harp. 

“Third—The residue of my estate I desire 
to be entirely devoted to the endowment and 
support of a Pension Bureau for the Friendless 
Young Maids of North America. 

“Fourth—The Pension Bureau to be under 
the sole charge and control of Lilola Olio, my 


140 


SiVEET y4DIN 


attorney and trustee, my personal protector 
and mutual friend. 

“Fifth—For in Olio I find all the benevo¬ 
lence and ability that can ever be found in one 
man. 

“Furthermore, I make no provision or 
award in my will for the benefit of my execu¬ 
tor, for I do not deem it necessary, or even 
prudent, as he has sole control of my gold- 
coin, without the intervention of courts or 
lawyers. 

“Sixth—I have also unfading confidence in 
his manhood, and honor. 

“With such qualities combined, he can 
faithfully pursue an honest course, that must 
be a public credit to himself, and in the end 
bear heavenly fruit for me and my legatees. 

“After reading my will with cool, thought¬ 
ful deliberation, I find no reason to alter or 
doubt any word I have said in it. Now good¬ 
bye to this kind world. 

“Done this fifteenth day of the month of 
April, A. D. 1849, in the immediate presence 
of Lilola Olio and his man-servant named 
Cicero. (Signed) 

“Witnessed by Sweet Adin. 

“Lilola Olio. 

“Cicero, jX’ my mark.” 


SIVEET ADW 


141 


Sweet Adin’s bower-hcme was located 
near by the grave of the White Rose, in a 
glen between two mountains. 

This glen Sweet Adin at first named Adin’s 
Glen, which was a proper name, as it was the 
place of his habitation. 

Afterward, by transposing and combining 
the two words, Adin and Glen, he had Glen- 
adin for a name, which seemed to be very 
agreeable, and smooth in sound, as well as 
pure in sense too, for his name and glen 
flowed together without adding to or taking 
away a letter. 

Indeed the change was very trivial, if change 
it maybe called, by giving glen a big“G”, and 
Adin a little “a”, for the sake of grammatical 
harmony. 

Anyhow his place, was ever after that called 
Glenadin. 

And it was whilst I paced to and fro over 
the floor of my cabin, buried in the deep, sol¬ 
emn thought of my future responsibilities, that 
Sweet Adin consolingly hummed, in a low, 
clear tone of voice, in company with his harp, 
the pleasant verses he had entitled Glenadin: 

“glenadin.” 

% 

“I will now go home to Sweet Glenadin, 


142 


SIVEET MIN 


To the distant woods of immortal green. 

Where lofty trees in virgin beauty rise, 

And wave far ’round the noble scene. 

chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the woods 
of Glenadin! 

“How I long to see the tall trees once more; 

For my heart is growing cold, and surely sink¬ 
ing, 

And love does not transport me as of yore. 

“When I reach the quiet shades of dear 
Glenadin, 

No power can evermore part the homely 
band; 

For my face is old and slowly fading. 

While hope is well anchored in the spirit 
land. 

chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the woods 
of Glenadin! 

How I long to see the tall trees once more; 

For my heart is growing cold, and surely 
sinking, 

And love does not transport me as of yore. 

“Then let me return to see old Glenadin, 
And there, in full faith, before I come to 
die. 


SIVEET A DIN 


143 


I will pray in some quiet, wild glade, 

And sing to my guardian angel on high. 

chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the wo6ds 
of Glenadin! 

How I long to see the tall trees once more; 

For my heart is growing cold, and surely 
sinking. 

And love does not transport me as of yore. 

“I often thought to bid adieu to fair Glenadin 
And seek a home among friends of long 
ago; 

But now I have so fairly willed it, 

That back to Glenadin I shall forever go. 

chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the woods 
of Glenadin! 

How I long to see the tall trees once more; 

For my heart is growing cold, and surely 
sinking. 

And love does not transport me as of yore. 

“Here is my hearty love for pure Glenadin; 
That is the home of all my earthly ties. 

There I have communed with fair nature 
In the only true paradise beneath the 
skies. 


144 


S^VEET ADIN 


chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the woods 
of Glenadin! 

How I long to see the tall trees once more; 

For my heart is growing cold, and surely 
sinking, 

And love does not transport me as of yore. 

“Now I think of the storms of sacred Glen¬ 
adin; 

When I could watch the bending boughs 
above, 

And hear a babel of solemn sounds blending, 
As the echoes answered, up in the moun¬ 
tain cove. 


chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the woods 
of Glenadin! 

How I long to see the tall trees once more; 

For my heart is growing cold, and surely 
sinking, 

And love does not transport me as of yore. 

“And now a lasting bliss on quiet Glenadin; 
For pure happiness I always found at 
home. 

To me it was indeed an earthly heaven, 
Where, many years, in joyful peace I 
lived alone.” 


SIVEET ADIN 


145 


chorus: 

“Oh the woods of Glenadin! Oh the woods 
of Glenadin! 

How I long to see the tall trees once more; 
For my heart is growing cold, and surely 
sinking, 

And love does not transport me as of yore.” 

. I was now ready for my long pilgrimage to 
Glenadin, so fairly celebrated in this charm¬ 
ing song, whenever my affairs could be hon¬ 
estly settled up in Growburgtown. So I at 
once put off for town, and there hastily sold 
my law library with little ado to the first bid¬ 
der for what it would fetch in spot cash. 

The day after my return, I announced my 
business settled and all serene at Growburg¬ 
town. However, before I left my old cabin I 
allowed my slave, Cicero, his freedom. But 
here it is proper to remark that he was never 
absolutely bound to me, except by the ties of 
his own goodwill. For I had repeatedly told 
him that should he consider his labors for me 
too severe, he might go abroad in the busy 
world and try to make out for himself. On 
the other hand, if he could be well satisfied 
with me and the light domestic duties he had 
to perform about my house, I should kindly 
Sweet Adin—lo 


146 


SIVEET /IDIN 


devote my means and time to promote his 
happiness. And when about to part forever, 
we showed our affectionate friendship, as our 
tears fell and mingled together on the old 
cabin floor. 

So I gave him a written certificate declaring 
his character to be very good. Moreover, I 
gave him directions to sell off the household 
chattels and take all the money for his own 
use, in amount upward of one hundred dollars. 
Cicero soon after immigrated to a northern 
State. There he made a reputation for good 
behavior among his new neighbors, being 
noted for a sober sense of duty, likewise for 
eloquence, and to this day he is held in high 
esteem by all who know him, both white and 
black. 

Well, the pilgrimage to Glenadin. At the 
close of fifteen days’ travel we reached Red 
Forest, the unbroken wilderness that then 
surrounded Glenadin. After it sloped away 
down from the mountains, Glenadin at that 
time spread out into a grand, sublime forest 
that grew on a level plain. And it was here 
the poet began his address to the birds of 
Glenadin, that I will give below. The favor¬ 
ite birds of the forest, now flitted about from 
branch to branch in the green foliage of the 


SIVEET y4DIN 


147 


trees in countless numbers, greatly delighted 

with the music of Sweet Adin’s voice and 

harp: 

“to the birds of glenadin.” 

“Pretty oriole of the forest wild, 

So pure and golden in gaudy sheen, 

I often see you so sweet and mild 

About your home in the shady green. 

“And nervous robin of the red breast. 

You scold, let come whatever may; 

With friend or foe you will not rest^ 

But scold away the livelong day. 

“Poor cooing dove, all so forlorn, 

Your voice is saddest in the wood; 

It has a very tender, touching sound, 

For you are both loving and good. 

“Redbird, your whistle is so clear, 

It is the bugle-call of cheerful things; 

You whistle, whistle with no fear; 

Away through the woods your whistle rings. 

“Goldfinch, you are a beauty to behold. 

Your voice is glowing in harmonic rhyme. 

When prospects are dull or very cold. 

Then in grandeur of beauty you shine. 

“Bluejay, you are here hopping round. 

And always seem so proud and busy; 


148 


SIVEET ADIN 


Your dress is fine as can be found, 

But oh, your voice will make me dizzy! 

“Mocking bird, you are the star of the play, 
With brown back and light breast. 

Mounted on limb, you sing your lay; 

Oh, how you are envied by all the rest 1 

“And now, sweet thrush, of charming voice. 
On you I will make my latest call. 

And should I at last take you for choice. 
Would it put other beauties out at all.^” 

Walking slowly through the forest, we were 
soon in sight of Adin's bower. Glencoe 
Fearnot, the accomplished keeper of the wild 
animals, hearing the welcome music of Adin’s 
harp, came marching down the glen to meet 
us, and add fresh pomp and parade to the 
already grand reception of the birds. And 
such an ovation I had never received before. 

It was indeed a pleasing menagerie of 
domesticated wild beasts. Such as buffalo, 
deer, elk, antelope,. wolves, wild boars, as 
well as dogs of all sizes and colors, and many 
of them of a ferocious appearance. It would 
carry me far beyond the plan of my story to 
enroll the names of all the animals that came 
out with Glencoe Fearnot to receive us. 


CHAPTER VII 


In the bower everything was arranged with 
admirable taste and elegance, and to a degree 
of splendor that made me very happy. So I 
sat down on one of the small thrones at the 
side of the bower, and upon examining my 
royal seat found it was made of the limbs of a 
young'live oak that had been skilfully inter¬ 
woven. Then I looked about the spacious 
bower and saw the wonders of art and nature 
growing everywhere. At this I could not 
control my emotions, but gave voice to my 
irrepressible feelings by clapping my hands 
and uttering enthusiastic shouts of glory. 

When nightfall came on, I was weary, and 
soon reposed in restoring sleep, as a good con¬ 
science and ease alone can sleep. In the 
morning. Sweet Adin showed me the grandeur 
of the surrounding scenery, and pointed out 
all the beauties of his romantic home. There 
was an extensive cave in the rear of his 
149 



150 


SIVEET ADIN 


bower, and this was his winter house. The 
bower of course was only used in summer¬ 
time. This cave had a door that he could 
close up very neatly, and was so surrounded 
with evergreen shrubbery that even a very 
keen, observing passer-by, could not easily 
discover it. 

The cave was vast and roomy, and Sweet 
Adin quietly led me through it with a lantern 
in his hand. He would, as we went along, 
explain to me the various uses that he had 
made of his vast storehouse. 

“Here,” he would say, pointing to some 
shelving rock, “I keep my butter and milk.” 
And going on a little way he would say, point¬ 
ing to some cool icy nook, “Here I keep my 
fresh meat.” And again coming to a large 
and capacious parlor, “Here I sleep in the 
winter, or when the summer storms are too 
noisy for my rest in the bower.” Thus I was 
agreeably surprised as we passed along, till we 
came to a remote corner of the cave. “Now,” 
said Sweet Adin, “here are some relics of a 
past age that have cost me no little fear; 
indeed they have been a constant source of 
alarm.” And holding his lantern out from him 
he said, “Do you see them, Olio.^” To be sure 
I saw them at a glance, and was greatly 
troubled in mind at the same time. 


SIVEET ADIN 


151 


For looking down, I saw, but a few steps 
from my feet, ghostly skeletons of the human 
form. To appear cool, I did not express any 
surprise, or speak out at once. So Sweet 
Adin continued: “These remnants of human 
beings,” said he, “have caused me much fear 
lest my abode should some time be discovered. 
For in that event, it would be searched by the 
inquisitive, these skeletons found, and I could 
bearrested for murder, and perhaps con¬ 
demned to the gallows.” 

After a short pause he continued, “I sup¬ 
pose a great battle was, at some remote time 
in the past, .relentlessly waged in Red Forest, 
there below, and the field doubtless left all 
strewn with the slain; and beasts of prey 
carried the dead to this hiding place. But I 
am guiltless of crime, my dear Olio, I am 
guiltless of any crime.” He closed his remarks 
with emphasis. Dear man, he was innocent 
indeed; he would not give unnecessary pain to 
a spider. However, I was fairly educated on 
the anatomy of the human body, so far as it 
had ever reached my practice before the cor¬ 
oner of Growburgtown. So I fell to, and for 
one whole hour subjected the remains to deep, 
profound study. Carefully taking each skel¬ 
eton separately, I made it pass a rigid post 


152 


SIVEET yfDIN 


mortem examination. Sweet Adin stood near 
by, holding the lantern to the best advantage 
over my subjects, and awaiting my report 
with much anxiety. When I had satisfied 
my mind, beyond a reasonable doubt, I looked 
up at the poet and smiled away the doubtful, 
careworn look of his face, as I told him he 
need give himself no further trouble of mind 
about the human remains, for I could estab¬ 
lish it beyond the shadow of a doubt that his 
abode was the tomb of a prehistoric race, long 
known as the cave -dwellers, and, in all pro¬ 
bability, antedating his time in the cave about 
one million and five-hundred thousand years; 
and I was well confirmed in this opinion by 
the enormous size of the cranium. And fur¬ 
thermore, I found a short clay tobacco pipe 
that had been in use a long time, with a 
smoke stem not over two inches long. We 
now emerged from the tomb and Sweet Adin 
closed the door. I was very well pleased 
with all I had seen in this wonderful cave, 
for it was full of grand sights and surprises 
throughout. In a few days I was made 
acquainted with the grand beauties of Red 
Forest and Glenadin. 

The birds of the bower became familiar, and 
the domestic wild animals would merrily sport 


SIVEET ADIN 


153 


all around me, as though I were a member of 
the family, and had been reared up among 
them. 

I walked leisurely around with Sweet Adin, 
and soon learned all that was of most interest 
to him and myself. 

He made many things in the forest inter¬ 
esting by important stories about them. He 
led me to the place in Red Forest where his 
gold-coin was buried. This spot was of 
great importance to me. However, the place 
of most interest to him was his beautiful 
flower garden, surrounding the grave of the 
White Rose, that he had dedicated many years 
before to his lost darling. 

This garden he had cultivated till it was a 
paradise of beauty. It was an Eden in the 
wilderness. 

This was the place he had selected and 
cherished through all the years as the resting- 
place of his body, when his soul should fly 
away to heaven. 

One day in June, when the air was fragrant 
with the odors of flowers, and the birds sang 
in strains of heavenly sweetness, we had 
strolled around Glenadin, and Red Forest, 
enjoying the charming splendors of nature till 
weary, then returned to the bower. 


154 


SIVEET ADIN 


Sweet Adin was reclining on his throne, 
that was made of the limbs of trees entwined, 
and as was ever his custom, a-humming one 
of his own familiar inspirations that told how 
he desired to be remembered; but it proved 
to be the unfinished song. 

“the unfinished song.” 

“When I am dead and my soul far away. 

Place no proud gems around my grave; 

Give proud trophies to all you may. 

Still remember me, remember me in song. 

“When the grass is growing green in spring¬ 
time. 

And the birds are singing in the dale. 

Plant near my grave some weeping vine. 

Still remember me, remember me in song. 

“When you approach the sad, lonely place. 
Say something kind, as you well know 
This is always prayerful and in good grace; 
Still remember me, remember me in song. 

“When cold storms drive the birds to another 
clime, 

And ice is rattling down over the plain, 
Refresh my grave with the living you can find; 
Still remember me, remember me in song. 

^‘When the grave is lost where I am laid, 


SH^EET ADIN 


155 


For time will surely destroy the little mound; 
Then away in some cool, sequestered shade, 

Still remember me, remember me—” 

The poet uttered the last words of his 
unfinished song in a faint, sobbing voice, as his 
hand fell helplessly away from his harp-strings. 

Noticing this peculiar action, I looked up 
where he sat among the green leaves on his 
throne, and at a glance, saw he was in a trance. 

However, I was not so much alarmed as I 
might have been, for I thought the transition 
of life to death would be of the same conse¬ 
quence, and result as favorably, as it had 
some time before in my cabin, and that, after 
a while, the transition would be from death 
to life again. But, while in this hopeful 
mood of mind, I did not allow the fatal trance 
to have its course without applying many 
well-known remedies that had oftentimes 
before prevailed. Thus expecting that every 
moment should bear life back to my patient, 

I devotedly watched by his side, and labored 
hard. 

Alas! life came not. Yet even then I did 
not allow death to take its own away from me 
till I had, with a worried mind and sleepy 
eyes, solemnly waked his remains for three 
days. 


156 


SP^EET ADIN 


Then hope having died out within my soul, 
I respectfully put his body down in the earth 
to rest, near by the great White Rose bush, 
in the flower garden at Glenadin, and there it 
now rests in peace. 

Surrounded too, by flowers and forest trees, 
that are daily animated with the beauty and 
sweet transporting songs of birds. 

When I had done justice to the dead, and 
placed the remains in a well-made grave, I 
gave way to my humble expressions of sorrow, 
and draped everything about Glenadin, the 
bower and the cave, with black badges of 
mourning, so that for many days the flower 
garden of the White Rose had to bear sad 
evidence that death and sorrow were there. 

Every shrub, tender vine, and sweet per¬ 
fumed flower, floated in the air mournful 
emblems, and gravely reminded me that 
Sweet Adin had passed away from the world 
we live in to the heaven of the just and pure. 

When the season of mourning was over, I 
cautiously unearthed the buried gold-coin, 
and upon counting the treasure, found the 
amount the same that was mentioned in 
Sweet Adin’s will. 

Not deeming it prudent to be hasty, I 
did not at once establish the Bureau for 


SIVEET ADIN 


157 


the Friendless Maids of North America. 

Nevertheless, I began a series of successful 
speculations, and soon had the estate increased 
to four millions of dollars. 

Having increased the original donation to 
this vast endowment-fund, without taking one 
cent for my own use and profit, I now estab¬ 
lished my Bureau. I styled it, “Sweet Adin’s 
Bureau of Education for Maids of North 
America.” 

Afterward I amended the name to read this 
way, “Sweet Adin’s Bureau of Education for 
Maids of North America, or the Sweet Adin 
Academy.” So it is by this amendment that 
the bureau is best known, as the “Sweet Adin 
Academy.” 

The name of the Bureau I hope was never 
considered any violation of the letter and spirit 
of the will, on the ground that I dropped the 
word “pension” and put “education” in its 
place. Whether these were violations of the 
will or not, nobody can now stop to think 
over or grumble about, for the annual gradu¬ 
ating class, taking one year with another, 
numbers two-hundred maids. So that my 
own conscience is not displeased with the 
fruits of my bold violations of the will, if vio¬ 
lations they can be named. For, instead of 


158 


SIVEET AOm 


having the Bureau contemplated in Sv/eet 
Adin’s mind, we have a bureau that so pre¬ 
pares the young maids for the battles of every¬ 
day life, that the superannuated maid of Sweet 
Adin’s day is unknown, far or near, in the 
country of my Bureau, and the helpless maid 
of long ago shall never more be seen there. 


CHAPTER VIII 


So, foreseeing that my maids should be 
limited in number as well as in age, with 
mature judgment, I made one thousand the 
number to be put on the academic roll, and 
as to the age, I made sixteen years the young¬ 
est limit, and twenty-four the oldest, so that 
the average age of the maiden students should 
be twenty for all time to come. 

No violence could, this time, be done to 
Sweet Adin’s will by my age-limit, for I was 
sole umpire of the age of the legatees. 

Board and instruction were to be forever 
free for all. One thousand at a time, I was 
well convinced, were as many as I could man¬ 
age with comfort to myself, and still be able 
at the same time to support any degree of 
gentility whatever. 

Soon after I had established my bureau or 
academy, applicants for admission began to 
address me in both letter and speech as “Lord 
Glenadin,’' thus giving me the name of Adin’s 
159 



160 


SJVEET ADW 


home in the glen, with the title of “Lord” 
prefixed to it. At first I was heartily pro¬ 
voked at the title, for I had always been very 
democratic, in my advice to others, and in my 
own social and political bearings. The con¬ 
sequence was that this royal mode of address 
always caused me to flush up red in the face, 
and show my distaste and annoyance in many 
bashful ways. But by persistent and con¬ 
stant application, the title wore in on me, till 
it has become as familiar and sounds just as 
well to my ears as Lilola Olio, or Mr. Olio, 
or even Ole, as I had been too familiarly 
called by my riff-raff old-cronies, when I was 
a poor, plain lawyer, and attired in very 
shabby apparel, beating and begging around 
Growburgtown for professional employment. 
So that, at this time, I have become quite 
familiar with “Lord Glenadin, Head of the 
Bureau of Education for Maids of North 
America.” Indeed, so well have I adopted 
this name, and title too, for that matter, that 
I cannot legally accept a letter from Miss 
Florence Summerville, the mistress of the 
mails at the city of Sweetadin (as it is now 
written, with a little “a” and in one word, 
instead of in two words with a big “A”), unless 
this full aristocratic address be plainly written 
thereon: 


SIVEET ADIN 


161 - 


“To His Excellency, Lord Glenadin, Head 
of the Bureau of Education for Maids of North 
America.” 

The bureau of Education is conducted in 
my thirteen mansions at the city of Sweet- 
adin. 

The pupils of the Bureau are under the 
tutelage of fifty female teachers of spotless 
maidenhood, over all of whom I ever keep a 
watchful eye. 

When I was about to erect the buildings 
for the Bureau, I cleared away Red Forest to 
the extent of one thousand acres, at the same 
time reserving in the center of the grounds a 
a forty-acre grove of the primeval forest trees, 
for the majestic old trees of many centuries 
growth can always arrest the frost in the frigid 
polar winds of winter days and cool the down¬ 
ward noonday heat of the sun in summer. 

The thirteen mansions of the Bureau of 
education stand in the center of this ancient 
park. The thirteenth is the main figure in 
the pile, while all the others circle around it 
and just far enough back to leave an open 
court-yard that we have beautified with walks, 
flowers, shrubbery, statuary and so on, as can 
be well understood by everybody. 

The twelve lesser mansions are made of red 
Sweet A din—it 


163 


SIVEET ^DIN 


granite. The thirteenth, my own, is of mot¬ 
tled green and white marble, imported from 
a distant land by way of ocean and river. 

Taking all in all, I have a villa and court¬ 
yard that may fairly challenge comparison 
with the surroundings of the greatest poten¬ 
tate in the world. 

The instruction at the Bureau is not alone 
the old-fashioned course of the sciences and 
ancient and modern tongues, but embraces 
the manual arts also, such as milking the 
cows, riding-horseback, weaving, spinning, 
cooking, washing clothes, horticulture so far 
as hoeing in the garden, driving a team, and all 
kinds of plain and fancy work with the needle; 
and last but not least, music, music, music, 
both vocal an‘d instrumental, till the coldest 
heart must be made warm and genial by its 
inspiring melodies, for music and refined soci¬ 
ety may be found in these umbrageous groves 
from April to November. The Bureau, when 
it was first located, and stood alone with no 
other additions, had, in a far-away view, the 
appearance of some pretentious suburban 
villa, where the rich had sought repose and 
peace in this charming circle of mansions, 
away from the hubbubboo of the struggling 
poor. 


SIVEET ADIN 


163 


Holding my old benefactor in holy remem¬ 
brance, in the days of prosperity, I called my 
place “Sweet Adin”, for the legal purposes of 
a village, so that his name might become 
immortal, and go down to all future genera¬ 
tions on the map of the country. But when 
the Government at Washington gave me a 
postofifice, by some kind of official oversight 
or very unsatisfactory reason, my postmistress 
was commissioned “postmaster of the city 
of Sweetadin.” 

This was of little consequence, for I wrote 
on to the head postmaster to have it made 
right, explaining things as well as I could, 
saying that Sweet Adin was the name of a 
good man who had in his lifetime been a great 
benefactor of our race, and that in the com¬ 
mission to my postmistress all the strength 
had been taken out of the name by putting a 
little “a” instead of a big “A”, andtlfen com¬ 
bining the two words into one simple word of 
three syllables that could at the most mean 
nothing more than any indistinct jabber of let¬ 
ters that he might choose to call it by. It 
would seem the postmaster took offense at my 
plain words, for he immediately wrote a letter 
bearing me down with personal innuendoes, 
charging that I was deficient in all knowledge 


164 


SIVEET ADIT 


of what I was about, for there had never been 
a man of the name of Sweet Adin on earth, 
and that “Sweetadin, the real name of the 
city, is the name of a perennial plant that 
grows in the valley of the Sunflower river, and 
puts forth in bloom early in June.” This 
made me hopping with vexation, to have a 
great man of my own personal time and 
acquaintance put down in the roll of fabulous 
characters, and made to be an out-and-out 
myth by one who ought to know better. 

So I brought the name in dispute up before 
the directors of the town company, and this 
made bad still worse to the last degree, for 
every man in town was desirous to make him¬ 
self famous by furnishing the name for the 
new city. Almost a majority wanted to call 
it “Olioburg” in honor of me. Some few 
“Lilola” for convenience. Others said it 
ought to be “Summerville”, after the post¬ 
mistress, and thus it went on in angry debate. 

It was “Adinville” now, “Olioburg”'then, 
“Summerville” again, till I was heartily dis¬ 
gusted with all the names proposed, and a 
compromise was finally made on the post¬ 
master’s corrupt name, “Sweetadin.” For it 
was evident that in that name only could I 
hope to keep the shadow of my benefactor 


SH^EET ADIN 


165 


about the town at all. Well then, Sweetadin 
began to grow fast, and at the same time, 
town lots sold very freely, whilst they advanced 
in value, till now they bring fabulous prices 
among the rich classes, who, as soon as they 
are well impressed with Sweetadin society, 
stand not on high values, but settle among us 
at once, and add new charms and increased 
wealth to the city. Here I have lived for many 
years, in comparatively quiet seclusion, and 
strictly attended to the estate, till I have it 
now increased to above ten millions of dollars. 
Indeed, since we have become a city, real 
estate alone would make us rich. 

Yet, with all this wealth and culture about 
me, I have been as economical as I could con¬ 
sistently be with the high rank and social 
position I hold. 

Some folks, feeling envious, may be curious 
to know more of the private inside history and 
domestic affairs of the Bureau, and how I 
spend all my lonesome hours. But I do not 
put my private matters on great show-bills to 
be posted in public places. 

However, matters that I honestly think to 
be the common property of mankind, I will 
in brief disclose. Sweetadin is a prosperous 
city, and its site has now been my home for 


166 


SIVEET ADIN 


thirty-seven years. We have at present but 
five railroads. Yet we do not live at a great 
disadvantage after all, for but a stone’s throw 
away we have a fine harbor, where the beauti¬ 
ful and placid Sunflower river flows by, in its 
course down to the sea. Here in the harbor, 
banners, colors and uniformed seamen may be 
seen from all parts of the known world. 

Since the city of Sweetadin has become of 
vast commercial and social importance, it has 
attracted the avaricious outlook of railroad 
kings from all parts of the country. To be 
sure, I have myself been on the outlook for 
good bargains, and have had my brokers in all 
the principal markets of the world, investing 
and reinvesting the endowment fund, and 
having dealt freely in railroads and stocks, 
and as a rule bought stocks liberally without 
much regard to the dividends of the roads 
that sold the stocks, I have in this way 
attracted the attention of important people. 

Some say it is good luck that makes my 
money. Those inclined to be facetious say 
it is my good looks. 

Others, who are accustomed to putting an 
intellectual aspect on the face of things, say 
it is my good judgment. 

However, let it all pass for what it may, I 


SIVEET ADIN 


167 


shall never worry very much over the good 
and bad opinions on my great success. 

Nor have I had fair, tranquil sailing, at all 
times. 

For, just as soon as the city of Sweetadin 
began to loom up as the queen city of the 
great Sunflower river, jealous rivals undertook 
to get some of her fame, commerce and riches 
for themselves. A town was started two 
miles up the glen, north of her. That ham¬ 
let is called Glenadin. And still another one, 
two miles south, sprang up like a toad-stool 
in the night. This hamlet is called Red 
Forest. 

The citizens of these hamlets declared the 
merchants of Sweetadin to be swindlers of a 
most dangerous school, and that they prac¬ 
tised the hauling of sand from the bars of the 
Sunflower river and feloniously sweetened it 
up somewhat, then sold it to their customers 
for Orleans sugar. 

And so on, at this same rate, they tried to 
make the world at large believe that the 
merchants of Sweetadin counterfeited pretty 
much everything, and cheated every unsus¬ 
pecting person that dealt with them. The 
newspapers of these hamlets always put 
themselves to the vilest depths of degradation 


1C8 


SIVEET ADIN 


in order to find a stratum of 'filth and abuse 
to heap upon me; so that my character was 
shamefully traduced. Still I bore it all with 
unruffled tranquillity, hoping for, and await¬ 
ing, the reaction of the crisis—that is to 
say, a time when something would turn up 
that could enable me to strike a decisive blow, 
so as to either blight my own future prospects 
or else foil and subdue my enemies. 

The crisis came on at last. A man of the 
name of Leonidas Williams, was the editor of 
a newspaper that was called the “Spirit of the 
Woods.” 

Now it was the custom of Williams that 
after he had nearly filled the “Spirit” with all 
the worst stories he had ever heard in the 
bar-rooms, and placed them to my credit in 
lengthy editorials, to fill out the remaining 
little vacancies with personal items of abuse 
about the leading citizens of Sweetadin, and 
what they prized so dearly, their town lots. 
And when he happened to be one of a little 
social group gathered on the street, he would 
make some sarcastic remark like this: “Have 
you heard the late news from the Bureau, in¬ 
volving the chastity of Lord Glenadin and his 
Sweetadin Maids.?” Williams would nearly 
always refer to my maidens at the Bureau as 


SJVEET yfDIN 


169 


the “Pretty Sweetadian girls,’' or the “Sweet- 
adian Maids of Lord Glenadin’s harem.” 
And, in this way, using many like phrases, he 
tried to cast a cloud of odium on my Bureau 
record. “Sweetadian girls” was a name not 
at all unpleasant to the ear, but it had a sting 
in it that had been put there as a means to 
excite a sneer of ridicule in some shallow- 
pated fellow. Nevertheless people began to 
use the name, and very soon it was common 
to hear “Sweetadian girls” and “Sweetadians”, 
and quite as often “Adians” alone. To be sure, 

I did not pout or rise up in a violent over¬ 
bearing passion, to see a worse abuse made of 
my benefactor’s name than had before been 
made by the postmaster-god. But I consid¬ 
ered all the names as impure derivations from 
the original Sweet Adin. 

By and bye, I gave the matter my free 
toleration; and I now use the names as com¬ 
monly as others do. 

So this tormenting editor was forever saying 
things to fret my people about the sale and 
value of their town lots. For instance, he 
would with affected emphasis solemnly declare 
that Red Forest, the hamlet that planted 
itself between Sweetadin and the Sunflower 
river, should, when properly authorized, make 


170 


SIVEET ADIN 


the people pay toll to get to the harbor for 
their goods. And in the very next issue of 
his paper, he would declare that Glenadin, 
the hamlet on the north, where he lived, could 
make Sweetadin pay an outlandish price for 
fresh water, as Glenadin controlled the stream¬ 
lets and fountains of fresh water that flow 
down from the mountains. 

All along, if the people had taken time to 
moralize, they could have seen how unjust 
and ungrateful they were to myself, their fos¬ 
ter parent, and that they were also treating 
me with malicious indignity. For the towns 
of Glenadin and Red Forest have grown up 
from the large spur-roots, as it were, of Sweet¬ 
adin. 

Had there been no overgrown Sweetadin, 
there could have been no rebellious hamlets 
like Glenadin and Red Forest. Besides, the 
very ground they stand on belongs to my 
Bureau, and has been leased to the proprietors 
for agricultural purposes alone, and for ninety- 
nine years only. 

Finally, Williams went so far outside of 
the pale of truth as to precipitate rebellion 
and bloodshed, had I not controlled my temper 
and kept my eye on the future prospects of 
my town. Town-lots had already shrunk 


SJVEET ADIN 


171 


fifty per cent in value under the influence of 
rebellion. Below I will give the headlines 
and an extract from the editorial in the “Spirit 
of the Woods” that caused so much warlike 
commotion for a few days, and brought things 
to such an alarming crisis. 

HEAD-LINES. 

“The Lord Glenadin of To-day; the Mur¬ 
derer and Chicken-thief when He was Lilola 
Olio; the Starving Lawyer at Growburgtown.” 

EXTRACT FROM EDITORIAL. 

“A friend of the ‘Spirit of the Woods’ 
made a friendly call at our office yesterday, 
and gave us another black page in the history 
of the corrupt life of Lord Glenadin, head of 
the Bureau better named “Lord Glenadin’s 
Harem of Sweetadian Girls.” The name of 
our informant of course is now witheld from 
the public. But he let us understand that 
should Lord Glenadin be put on trial for his 
bad deeds, he, the good friend, would come 
forth from the closet of secrecy, and throw the 
light of truth on the black places in the moral 
character of His Excellency. Our informant 
is a man of faultless mold of character, and 
has left no criminal blots on the record of a 
long lifetime. 


173 


SH^EET /IDIN 


“Children born in Growburg and now grown 
gray with years cannot remember the first 
time they saw our friend sitting in the jury- 
box. In fact he has always made such a fair 
juror that neither judge, lawyer nor litigant 
could ever find fault in him on account of 
bias of mind. So there he has been, on the 
Growburg jury for the last past five-and-forty 
years. The story is, if our memory serves 
us well, substantially as given in this account. 

“This good man was a neighbor of Lilola 
Olio when Olio lived in a log-cabin near 
Growburgtown. 

“One dark stormy night. Olio suddenly 
abandoned his cabin for parts unknown. 

“When he disappeared, his old neighbors 
gathered at his vacant cabin and made a close 
search. So, back in the rear of the cabin in 
the midst of a dense thicket of vines and 
brush-wood, they found conclusive evidence 
of their loss. That is to say, they found the 
remains of a great number of their missing 
favorite fowls, for feathers were everywhere 
about the thicket, and of many kinds. The 
missing fowls could be very well identified by 
certain gaudy plumes. One neighbor found 
the spurs of some very beautiful favorite fight¬ 
ing cocks that had private brands. 


S^EET ADIN 


173 


“But the most melancholy scene that met 
their eyes was a new-madr grave, which was 
without a tenant; for all that, on its own 
bare face, there was a strong circumstance 
of guilt.” 

And this editorial went on at a great 
length, all the while trying to implicate me 
with felony. 

Well, as to that new-made grave my neigh¬ 
bors made such a mare’s nest about, it was 
easily made plain, for it was the grave I had 
prepared for Sweet Adin, when he was in a 
trance and I thought he was surely dead. 

So the suspicion and doubt that my neigh¬ 
bors cast on my character with the new-made 
grave in the thicket, I soon explained away 
to all my friends and maidens, and, I verily 
believe, to their full satisfaction of my inno¬ 
cence. 

Now as to the charge of being a miserable 
hungry chicken-thief, I shall once for all say 
to the world that I considered it a malicious, 
brazen-faced blow at my dignity, even to make 
any explanation whatever, nor did any worthy 
or considerable share of the public around 
me ask for it. But narrow, prejudiced souls, 
who were always hopeful of my early decline 
in public favor, made all the ado they could 


174 


SIVEET j4DIN 


out of the naked circumstances of the grave 
and chicken-feathers. 

And Williams had thus gone on in every edi¬ 
torial of his newspaper, widely circulating the 
charges he made out against me, and using 
the same degree of vituperation that I have 
given in this account. 

Thus he constantly filled me with dire 
depression and disgust. 

It was enough to unsettle my steady pur¬ 
poses of honor to see my own family, as it were, 
rising up in rebellion and traducing my char¬ 
acter. And during the heart-rending trials of 
those days, I wished, with sad feelings of my 
heart, that I had never stimulated the growth 
of Sweetadin to such a degree that she had 
to be envied by pretentious hamlets that 
should be her allies in either war or peace. 

Now I will give some account of the excite¬ 
ment caused by charging me with the felony 
of murder and chicken-theft. 

The “Spirit of the Woods” was a weekly 
messenger that appeared every Saturday 
morning. And as the people would go to the 
postoffice for the news, the commotion, to be 
sure, could do naught but spread over the 
country like fire in dry grass, for as each sub¬ 
scriber would unfold his paper he could at a 


S^VEET ADIN 


175 


glance see the head-lines of the flaming libel 
on my character. 

So the time had come for me to choose 
between war and peace. The time had come 
for me to change the whole pursuit of my 
life. A military career, with all its wild 
romantic allurements, had opened up before 
me, and was beckoning my ambition on to 
glory and fame. 

Hitherto I had only studied the financial 
elements of things, and the home-like economy 
of living so as to save up for a future'day. 
Now I must court fierce, murderous war, and 
engage in it too, with a barbarous ambition to 
destroy cities instead of building them up 
anew. Or, on the other hand, with a pol¬ 
ished, winning and hypocritical tongue and a 
cunning, clean hand, smile and gesture before 
all alike for peace. 

Happily I preferred home and peace. So 
when my mind had become tranquil and cool 
in its peaceful reflections, I sent an olive 
branch as it were, to the editor of the “Spirit 
of the Woods.That is to say, I sent one of 
my maidens as a messenger bearing my offer¬ 
ings of peace. 

According to my instructions, she requested 
him to come to my mansion and parley with 


176 


SJVEET ADIN 


me for a while before he should bring on the 
war. The editor came, sure enough, at once, 
armed with a stout war-musket and sixty 
pounds of leaden balls, and as much powder 
as would be in proportion. 

When he entered my parlor I arose and 
presented my bare breast, and told him, with 
a smile on my face, that his safeguards were 
superfluous, for I was for peace and good will, 
and that I meant him no harm whatever in my 
late endeavors to boom Sweetadin. At this, 
he was overcome with the magnitude of my 
peaceful heart, and wept aloud like an infant 
in tender age- 

Then he told me, as soon as he could con¬ 
trol his emotions, for his face was bathed in 
tears, that he had prepared for a long and 
bloody war, and that one-hundred men were 
under arms north of me at Glenadin; and 
another army full three-hundred strong south 
of me at Red Forest; and both armies sleep¬ 
ing on their arms and ready to march at the 
beck of his finger and storm my castle. In¬ 
deed, I fairly shuddered at his turbulant war- 
story, as it was evident to all that I had made 
no preparations whatever for such a rebellion, 
and must, according to the usual sacrifices of 
war, fall a victim in the first battle. Of course 


SIVEET A DIN 


177 


my mansions could be easily surprised, in the 
sleepy hours of the night, and my maidens 
captured and carried off, and held, at least 
as prisoners of war, till such times as a heavy 
ransom could be paid by the Bureau for their 
return to liberty. And they might be, for that 
matter, restrained of their freedom uncondi¬ 
tionally for life. So I felt the heavy burden 
of my position resting on me. The editor 
plainly told me that all Red Forest and Glen- 
adin desired from me was a manly promise 
that they should be allowed to share in all 
the vast railroad enterprises I had conferred 
on the city of Sweetadin alone. Before the 
rebellion, it is true, I had not invited these 
towns to take a part, or even to vote for bonds 
to aid in any of the great corporations of 
which I was the president, for I had all along 
considered them the mere outskirts of my 
own city, and moreover, I had had no official 
count of their populations. I intended them 
no harm, I am sure, in treating them as quiet 
little hamlets of my own great city. How¬ 
ever, the time had come to make a change in 
my programme, and I immediately began to 
fix up a compromise with my rivals, for I was 
sorely pressed all around. 

So I appointed Williams to be president of 

Sweet A din—12 


178 


SIVEET A DIN 


the “Sweetadin, Growburgtown, Roaring 
Springs and Lake Superior Railroad.” 

This appointment was but the first of many 
important considerations I conceded in the 
compromise. Still making concessions, I 
agreed that the charters of all the seventeen 
great railroad corporations whose headquar¬ 
ters were at Sweetadin, should without delay 
be changed so as to include Red Forest and 
Glenadin. And where it had been “Sweet¬ 
adin, Stony Point and Great Sunflower River 
Railroad,” I had to have the charter changed 
to read in big plain letters, “Sweetadin, Glen¬ 
adin, Red Forest, Stony Point and Great 
Sunflower River Railroad. ” And furthermore, 
it was agreed that Glenadin and Red Forest 
should be written in brilliant brazen brass 
letters on all the cars now in use or hereafter 
to be used on my roads. 

Among the most important of the seventeen 
railroads that will be built into Sweetadin 
the coming summer, I may mention, besides 
the roads I have incidentally noticed, the 
Sweetadin, Glenadin, Red Forest and Cape 
Horn; the Sweetadin, Glenadin, Red Forest 
and Sea Shore; the Sweetadin, Glenadin, Red 
Forest and Rocky Mountain; the Sweetadin, 
Glenadin, Red Forest and Great Bee Line to 


SUREST /1DIN 


179 


the Pacific; the Sweetadin, Glenadin, Red 
Forest and Great Bee Line to the Atlantic, 
and so forth. 

So it is now plain to all that my conces¬ 
sions were proper, and made at the right time 
to preserve the peace and good order. 

Had the compromise been delayed in hope 
to save cost, then all the rich men who were 
everywhere about, as abundant as bees in a 
clover field, would most likely have been 
frightened away from town. 

And all the vast enterprises I have now in 
tow could be safely counted as mere baubles 
of my own mind, kind of airy phantoms, as it 
were, without a tangible body. But with 
this compromise we are restored to peaceful 
pursuits, and everything on land, around 
Sweetadin, as well as above and below on the 
Sunflower River, is swiftly sailing along in its 
true course on the angelic white wings of 
commerce. 

Old foggyism that once prevailed, is going 
to the back-ground, growing weak in public 
estimation, and must in time give full sway to 
the light of truth and liberty.. 

And the day, we may say, has come, when 
Red Forest, Sweetadin and Glenadin are hap¬ 
pily united in a great central city of com- 


180 


SIVEET ADIN 


merce, civilization and brotherly love. So 
united, Sweetadin must surely be the metrop¬ 
olis of the Sunflower river. 

A few days after I had appointed Williams 
to be the president of the Sweetadin, Grow- 
burgtown. Roaring Springs and Lake Supe¬ 
rior Railroad, now called the Sweetadin, 
Glenadin, Red Forest, Growburgtown, Roar¬ 
ing Springs and Lake Superior Railroad, he 
came to my mansion, his face aglow with his 
new enterprise and all wreathed in smiles of 
peace, and offered to sell to me his newspaper, 
the “Spirit of the Woods;” at the same 
time declaring that he should, without further 
delay, proceed to old England and purchase 
steel rails for his great railroad with the 
money thus obtained. 

To be sure, I was very anxious, at almost 
any cost, to get control of that powerful 
journal. For I foresaw that it must prove a 
very friendly ally to me, and aid very much in 
soothing the contrary opinions of the Sweet- 
adians in case any of my new schemes should 
prove unpopular. 

Furthermore, the money I was to lay out 
for its purchase would go right into an enter¬ 
prise I was personally interested in. With 
these views in mind, I took the paper at the 


SIVEET ^DIN 


181 


editor’s own price, without asking for better 
terms, and he is now in England seeing that 
his steel rails are well made. 

A short time ago I received a letter from 
him saying that he personally inspects each 
new rail as soon as it is cold, and will not 
receive one that has the least flaw or damage 
in it. 

So, looking back at the past, I cannot often¬ 
times refrain from deep happy reflection on 
my good luck in choosing peace for my por¬ 
tion and returning good for evil, as I no doubt 
averted one of the most violent rebellions of 
modern times. 

Now I have before remarked that Williams 
had purchased sixty pounds of leaden balls 
to use in the “War with the Sweetadians,” as 
he calls it in his history of that conflict. 

Well, he turned all his munitions of war 
over to me as part of the “Spirit of the 
Woods,” and I immediately sold his war- 
musket to a blacksmith to be used as old iron, 
and told the people of all shades of new polit¬ 
ical opinions, and the faithful of all kinds of 
religious shams whatever, to throw off the 
galling fetters put on their minds by Williams’ 
war-musket, and go to the editorial rooms of 
the “Spirit,” and there and then fully express 


182 


SIVEET y^DIN 


and teach their opinions, to the full satisfac¬ 
tion of their desires, for I did not deem it 
within the spirit of a free country like ours to 
use such a fear-making safeguard. 

The leaden balls the editor turned over to 
me, I had made into three clean, charming 
little statuettes. When the sculptor had them 
finished I ordered the “Spirit of the Woods” 
to make a call for a public meeting of the 
people, to be held in the style of a playful pic¬ 
nic in the old shady grove that surrounds the 
garden of the White Rose; and the call, as I 
had all along foreseen, proved a great success; 
and there, in the pleasant shades, amid a par¬ 
adise of fragrant flowers rivaled in beauty 
alone by the Sweetadian girls, who were all 
present, I unveiled the little fairy-like images 
tc public admiration, and at the same time to 
commemorate the love and model virtues of 
three celebrated divinities who ruled in the 
days of our ancient ancestors, many, very 
many, generations ago. One I unveiled in 
honor of Ceres, the goddess of corn. Another 
«as Diana, the goddess of chastity and mar¬ 
riage. And to make it all the more interest¬ 
ing to every one, I unveiled the last of the 
pure little trio in the name of Cupid, the 
adorable god of love. 


SIVEET ADIN 


183 


When I unveiled each little celestial image, 
I paid a modest tribute in plain words, and 
when I had come to Cupid, in the absence of 
a better variety, and as a toast to the Sweet- 
adian girls, I declaimed the verses given 
below: 

“to the sweetadian girls.” 

“Come now, sweet maids. 

And listen to my praise; 

For little Cupid has made 
Olio happy all his days. 

“Behold the bending bow. 

He places the arrow on; 

Away speeds the dart aglow. 

And strikes the hero down. 

“The old man standing by, 

Has a passion not so ill; 

That neglects the Cupid tie. 

Oh no, he never will. 

“Old women are here too. 

Their specs bent on the god; 

With Cupid in full view. 

Old age is soon forgot. 

“Now see, Sweetadian girls. 

As I put the veil aside; 

How his selfish little curls 


184 


SIVEET j4D1N 


Hold the old ones side by side.’’ 

At the close of this short essay to the girls, 
I gently removed the veil, and there was a loud 
storm of applause, which was heartily partici¬ 
pated in by old and young alike. It was 
indeed the closing scene in what had been a 
lovely entertainment all around. Although 
lead, I had the little images of virtue galvan¬ 
ized and embellished with golden gems and 
precious stones, till they are supremely 
refined in artistic beauty, and ardently admired 
by everyone who enters my parlor. 

Fortunately I shall not forget to mention 
that I presented with my compliments Diana 
the goddess of marriage and chastity to Miss 
Florence Summerville, the postmistress at 
Sweetadin (or postmaster, as the god at 
Washington still calls her, without regard to 
sex), and she is highly delighted with the 
goddess, and excites jealous rage in all the 
other maids by boasting of my generous gift. 

So now it may be seen that the Red Forest 
of forty years ago has been transformed from 
the secluded bower of the poet, to a land teem¬ 
ing with wealth and ambition, chastity and 
love, luxury and fame; and the glorious crown 
of it all is Sweetadin, the queen city of the 
Sunflower river. 


SIVEET ADIN 


q185 


The transition has been from an age of 
poetry to an age of commerce, of wealth, and 
of beauty. O, my friends, here is the end! O, 
let me now call upon you to witness my last 
account in this story! 

In war or in peace, at labor or at rest, I 
have never for one moment swerved from the 
path of duty, though thorny at times, nor 
forgotten Sweet Adin through whose benevo¬ 
lent heart the Bureau was created. 

For the Bureau is the source of all this grow¬ 
ing rich magnificence that everywhere abounds. 
Therefore, some time ago, with a heart full 
of love and gratitude, I laid a memorial mar¬ 
ble slab on his grave in the flower garden of 
the White Rose, and reverently honoring his 
poetical request, I had the quotation below 
taken from his own verse, and chiseled in 
plain deep letters that all may read, on his 
grave-stone; 

^‘He was a man who loved the beauties of 
earth and skies; and that is all I have to say 
of Sweet Adin and his fame.*^ 

Farewell, my friends, 

Lilola Olio, or Lord Glenadin, 



« 


I 


» 


/ 


I 


I 


9 



4 


I 


0 










< % 


/ ^ 




• I- 

> 




I- 


• \ , 

% 


1 1 
J 




« 


) ' 


V 


» 


V 


I 



4 

I 


/ 




1 


I 

• I 







\ 

* I 





0 


« 








t 


K , 669 


'; 





t' 


4^ t 

• I* * 


] 


% 


jrr' 
















• C‘ V > , 0 ^ 

'' • V- ?3 tSi ^ . a"^ 



8 1 A ■» <,0 

<1 a'O ^ 

cA ^ 

z 




Q. . O >< 0 


^ ^ ^ A . V ", 

•’' 0 « V . 0 ^ M „ 

*S . 0 N c . 

A ^ 



A ^ ^ a'-'^’ . ‘ ^ -o' . 

\ - 

^ - 0 O ,^^ ^ *• 

O-^ s'"-., '^o v'' »’*», "> \, 

-^-^s .. -.R,'?.% A-i- 

% A 




•- .x’^'■•V 

-fe "> 


, “VJ^XP*,* A''^'^ A' ^■> '•, 

A ■' 0 « 1. <0 *f ^ ,S ' v 

v''A' s '' ' * ‘. aO-^ c *. '^<5. ” .-x-^'s “ ' ' ‘ * 



it it 



































•< 

•o o' ^ 

sOs^^ixa^ ✓* 

■^J- V" 

«?■ 

o 

»> 

4 -A >- 

.V ^ ^ 

''t^/fllS^^ •>< 
wjJr^ ^ 



^ 0 H 0 ^ 

// C> \- ’ '•'a 


O ® . 


'x A to 

V""' ^ " K 




"V ^ • • ^x* ’" 

^ V, 

1 , : ■'"i-. ,<e^^ . 

;>* 


>$- 

'i ^ 0 f, 

1^ ///I o 

^ .i^ .. '< V> ^' 

^ \ ci' « ^ <1> ^ 

.V . « ^ o 0 *^ " >? 

-\\ ' JF(if//yd^ "f‘ . ‘‘. “ 

^ M^\u//yx^- V 

O r\' 



" ^ O o'^ “ ^ 

„ _ '» ^ 

' ^*< 5 ^ « O.^ t- s p.\) 

^ ^ -n r-^ <l A \ ^ ^ 

^ c!^ ^ ^ 

z 




tr 

y//l Tiy *«• 

rl. 

<> .-> 

\ (Av- 

^ 8 1 

* I> ^ vJ 

1 ' 

0 ^ >■ 


?) " 













































